Color My World
by ChidoriQueen
Summary: Ayame Nakamura was always a believer in working hard and independence, but when she happens to stumble upon the Host Club, they manage to bring out a happier side of her- but what happens when a mysterious stalker arises questions about her dark, shady past?
1. Chapter 1- Welcome to the Host Club!

I doodled an eye, an intricate iris, delicate eyelashes, in my History binder, not paying an inkling of attention to the droning monotone of Yamazaki-sensei.

"And that is why King Henry VIII is regarded as one of England's most unsatisfactory monarchs," the balding man with a wisp of gray-white hair concluded, tapping the blackboard with a useless stub of white chalk before placing it on his teacher's desk. Many students, including myself, attempted to stifle a yawn and a sigh of relief.

Tamaki Suoh, the blonde-haired violet-eyes prince narcissist, was examining his nails (perfectly filed and manicured, no less), giving the occasional "charming" wink at a group of giggling girls, whose cheeks were tinted a cherry blossom pink at the slight affectionate gesture.

I rolled my eyes in disgust. Rich bastard.

The rest of class was dozing away, waiting for the blessed moment when the bell would chime, indicating the end of the tedious class.

At long last, the bell sang its beautiful music, and I crammed my binder and folder into my paint-splattered backpack, grabbed my violin case from its usual spot next to my desk. I hurried out of the classroom, pulling out a few sheets of classical music.

I stared at the sheet music, vaguely searching the pink chandelier-abundant corridors for a peaceful room where I could play undisturbed to my heart's content.

I meandered left, turned right, walked ahead, until I collided into a door, the words Music Room #3 printed on a sign that hung slightly above. I pressed my ear against the door, listening for any hint that someone was inside. From what I could figure out, the room was silent. Perfect.

Oh, where are my manners? My name is Ayame Nakamura, daughter of a nobody, currently living as a nobody. My usual attire consists of some faded old shirt with some clever remark about a composer or artist, my favorite worn-out jeans, and my red high-tops, covered in doodles and writing with a black permanent marker. I value my uniqueness.

I guess you could say that I have that ordinary sob story that earns me undeserved, unwanted pity, having a mother who died when I was still a toddler, leaving me alone with some cash in a bank and a careless, occasionally drunk father.

For the past month, I've had to work harder than usual. After all, my arts scholarship for Ouran only covered about half of the tuition, and I had to cough up the other portion through hard work. I learned a long time ago that I couldn't trust my father for financial or moral support.

My life sucks, okay? I pretty much admit it.

I flung the door open, but before I could take another step inside, I was blinded by a bright light and a curtain of rose petals, revealing a group of seven boys posing in the center of the room.

I turned to the door handle, embarrassed to have intruded on...whatever the hell this was, "Sorry...er...wrong room," I muttered, forcing a smile and a quick wave. Oh, damn it. Was I deaf or something?

I reached for the door handle, at first completely unaware that a student, who I recognized as Tamaki, had appeared in a flash in front of me and placed a fair-skinned hand on my shoulder, until he whirled me around, resting his index finger on my chin.

"Gentleman!" he called in an arrogantly annoying singsong voice, "We have a new guest!"

Tamaki turned his attention back onto me, "My dear princess-"

I kneed him in the chest, not being the touchy-feely type, "Get the hell off of me!"

A pair of exact replicas appeared, both with copper hair in almost-identical hairstyles and green-gold eyes. The one the right whispered in a loud, but slightly hushed voice, "Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh."

Ignoring the twin, I towered over Tamaki, gritting my teeth, "Okay, fine. I apologize. But please, let me get the hell out of here-"

Tamaki reached for my wrist, "No, no, no. You're not leaving yet. From the very moment you stepped inside this room, you've become a guest of the Ouran Host Club! From now on, our mission is to make you happy!"

He literally, and I'm not kidding, sparkled as he gave a few dramatic twirls throughout the room. Who did this guy think he was anyways?

"The Ouran Host Club?" I was incredulous.

"Yes, the Ouran Host Club!" he trilled. "The academy's most handsome boys with way too much time on their hands, entertain young ladies who also have too much time on their hands. Think of it as a playground for the super rich and beautiful!"

"Entertain? A playground?" I raised an eyebrow at them. "So you're _prostitutes_?"

"I suppose we can offer one day for free, as a sort of try-out. What do you say, Kyoya?" Tamaki piped up, practically trembling with excitement.

"It would probably mean a slight decrease in our profits, but if you're willing to risk that it's alright with me. I'll just make note of it," Kyoya responded, lips pursed as he scrawled something quickly onto a clipboard.

"No!" I stomped my foot, frustrated with these air-heads. "I'm leaving now and I mean it! I've had enough!"

I felt a small creature that felt like an animal tug at my jeans. Startled, I looked down, only to find a little boy with a mop of blonde hair and big, doe-eyes, who was clutching a pink stuffed rabbit pleading, "Please don't leave...Aya-chan."

Aya-chan? No one had ever called me that before- it was just plain old Ayame, the artsy loser.

"Well, I...maybe I can stay for a bit," I answered uncertainly, feeling a bit of a tug on my hearstrings.

"YAY!" he cheered, grabbing my hand and yanking me towards the table, "We can have cake!"

"So...you agree?" Tamaki asked, stopping the little blonde boy by placing a hand on his head.

"Er..."

Tamaki snapped his fingers, creating a sharp ringing sound. "Ladies, she's all yours!"

"What?!" I shrieked, flailing my arms wildly as I was hoisted towards a dressing room, where evil monstrosities called dresses in hideous shades of pink probably resided in. And makeup. Crap.

I twitched as I was poked and prodded in uncomfortable places, when various dresses were shoved unceremoniously in my face.

"Oh, this would look so cute on you!" one of them gushed, brandishing a dress that looked like nothing more than a few strips of gold fabric stitched together.

I salvaged an outfit from the wreckage that didn't seem to send out the message "slut". I shoved the girls out of the dressing room.

I quickly changed, trying to ignore the small, sane section of my mind that was urging me to jump out of the nearest window, even if it meant diving head-first into the lily-pad filled pond below, and taking an unfortunate swim with the tadpoles.

I put on the buttercup yellow Ouran girl's uniform, deciding that it was better than the rest of the selection. The fabric strangled my waist, the sleeves were a couple of inches too long and shapelessly covered my arms.

I pushed the curtain open, where more female students along with the Host Club were waiting, exchanging small talk while being served obviously expensive tea and coffee.

The girls were fawning over the copper-haired twins, the pair gazing into each other's eyes with affection. And those idiots were lapping it up. I quickly turned my snicker into a cough, earning myself a couple of glares from a girl perched on the arm of a poufy, crimson couch.

Tamaki was standing on a chair, waving his hand dramatically in the air, eyes shining in some nonexistent light. The girls sitting nearby watched him as if he were some supreme god, taking in his every word with a few overenthusiastic nods of the head.

In a few moments, he abruptly noticed my appearance and sang, "Nakamura-chan!"

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms as I crossed the room towards him, "Yes?"

He hopped off the chair in a delicate fashion. "You look beautiful! Now it's time for you to pick your type of host!"

"Type?" I was curious, there were types in this club? All of the "hosts" were the same in my eyes: immaturely wealthy, complete airheads, and downright ignorant. Especially_ this_ bastard.

"Yes!" He seemed overjoyed to explain his whole insane Host concept to a complete stranger. "We have the 'cool type'!"

Tamaki gestured wildly to Kyoya, who sat in a table in the corner of the room, clacking away on an expensive laptop, oblivious to the ruckus his friend was making.

"The 'strong and silent type'!" Tamaki then proceeded to motion towards a rather tall teenager who accompanied the boy who invited me for cake, watching warily as he wolfed down a rather large slice of strawberry cheesecake.

"The 'mischevious type'!" He pointed at the twins, who were currently conversing with the girls, who blushed and continued to enjoy their paid-for undivided attention.

"The 'boy-lolita' type!" Tamaki flicked his hand in the direction of the little blonde boy, who grinned at the mention of his type, showing off a mouthful of cake.

"The 'natural type'!" His finger went towards a feminine-looking boy with familiar large brown shining eyes and a short haircut. He smiled sympathetically at me, waving his hand in my direction in a slight movement.

"And finally, the 'princely type'!" He motioned to himself, closing his eyes in a smile of satisfaction.

"Gee, I wonder who that could be," I remarked, voice dripping heavily with sarcasm as I gave the "princely host" a doubtful and unimpressed look.

Before Tamaki could reply to my comment, I quickly interrupted, "Err...I'll go for natural," I answered uncertainly, eyeing the feminine boy carefully from afar. He smiled softly in consolation, and politely gestured towards me.

Wait, was it just me, or did he look really familiar?

He led me towards an isolated table at the corner of the spacious room, several yards away from where Kyoya was absorbed in his "work" and a glass window that gave a breathtaking view of the academy. He courteously pushed a cushion-y chair out and saved me the trouble, before taking the seat opposite mine.

The corners of his mouth upturned in another smile as he made himself comfortable, pouring a bronze-hued stream of tea from a teapot.

The moment painfully dragged on as the boy had taken quite a few measured sips from his own cup, smiling pleasantly.

"Hi, it's really nice to meet yoy, miss. I'm Haruhi Fujioka-" he blurted out suddenly, desperately trying to ease the tension that had accumulated within the last few minutes.

"Haruhi...Fujioka?" My hesitant words copied my thoughts, as I tilted my head slightly to the left so I could observe him...no, her.

Haruhi Fujioka, the number one student in middle school? The most popular girl in school?

"Do I know you?" She looked bewildered, face scrunched up in an attempt to recall the memory of her junior high days. "Wait..."

"Ayame Nakamura," I encouraged, patiently waiting for her to recognize me.

"Ayame...Naka-oh! Now I remember!" She smiled again, snapping her fingers. "You're a musician, right?"

I laughed for the first time since I entered Ouran, the high clear ringing sound startling me. "And you dominated the academic competitions."

A question popped up in my mind that I simply couldn't resist the urge to ask, a smirk gradually spreading across my face, "Anyway...why are you here?"

Her cheeks were tinted a light red, and she was obviously unsure how to respond. "Well, I...t's kind of hard to explain..."

I egged her own, leaning my elbows on the table. "Go on, I don't mind."

"Where to begin?" She looked cautiously around, eyes and ears searching for eavesdroppers, before deciding the coast was clear and continuing, "Well, not too long ago, I was looking for a quiet place to do study. I kinda got lost, and...well, found this room. It looked perfectly quiet, so..."

I nodded sympthetically. That much was true.

"When I tried to leave, I accidentally broke an 8,000,000 yen vase that was about to be auctioned off." She ran her fingers through her hair, cringing at the memory. "Kyoya gave me a choice: I could stay at the Host Club and work to pay off my debt. I still am, actually, but I don't quite mind it anymore."

"Do they know you're a girl?" I was genuinely curious. If she was forced to spend so much of her time with these idiots, wouldn't they have figured it out by now?

"Actually, yes. They just keep my secret and force me to hang around."

I pondered this for a moment, before changing the subject, "Could you tell me who's who?"

"The blonde who asked you for cake, his name is Mitskuni Haninozuka, Honey, for short. He and his cousin- that tall guy who' standing next to him- are both third-years."

"The twins, Hikaru and Kaoru Hitachiin are first-years here. Same class as I am. And you know Kyoya and Tamaki-senpai, right?"

At the moment, Tamaki was tugging a rather harassed Kyoya towards our seat, and I had to fight back a chuckle.

"Why, you seemed to have made friends with our Haruhi! She-he," he amended quickly, covering up his moment of uncertainty with another brilliant smile, "-is very delightful company and I hope-"

Haruhi cut across his potentially long and tedious monologue, glancing at me as I traced the gold swirls on my porcelain china, "It's alright, senpai, she can drop the act. We know each other from middle school."

"And I can say for sure that no one else from junior high would ever set foot in here, so your secret is safe," I added bitterly, having a sudden urge to leave.

Coughing and checking my watch, I stood up, "By the way, I would say that it's been lovely meeting you, but I really gotta go!"

I ran into the dressing room, ignoring their confused gazes, throwing on my slightly-crumpled outfit. Those idiots. What was I thinking? Why did I even want to stay in the first place?

I was right. This damn academy really was filled with trash.

And nothing could ever change that fact in my mind.


	2. Chapter 2- Unjust Persuasion

Haruhi's POV

"What am I supposed to do with that?" I eyed the locket that rested in Kyoya's palm, praying that this wasn't another one of Tamaki's insane schemes that usually involved me "disguised" as a girl.

He opened the locket, exposing a small sound recorder, before carefully closing it, a smirk upturning his features, "Just persuade her to sing. Leave the rest to me."

I couldn't understand why he and Tamaki were so hellbent on getting her to join the Host Club. Maybe they just found her interesting. I stopped trying to understand why yesterday.

However, I had no doubts that they could somehow get her to do it.

Kyoya had a wide array of threats and bribes that could be used as weapons. Judging by the sinister smirk on his face, he already had something in mind.

"I sense a 'but' coming around." I dreaded his response, having guessed the answer.

His sinister smirk widened, confirming my suspicions. "But you have to dress like a girl."

XXX

Ayame's POV

"Where are we going?" I inquired, following Haruhi through a suburban neighborhood that wasn't far from my apartment, "If you think you can drag me back to that insane club of your's, think again."

Golden leaves danced across the pavement, and a light breeze shook the branches of an ancient oak tree.

To my surprise, she was wearing a pseudo-girlish outfit, which consisted of a pale pink t-shirt, a light denim jacket, brown leggings, and short-heeled black boots. A silver locket adorned her neck...wait, a necklace? Since when did the crossdressing Haruhi Fujioka wear _necklaces_?

"What's with that?" I wrinkled my nose, gesturing towards the piece of jewelry.

A look of panic flickered across her face, and for a moment, just a moment, she seemed uncertain, unconfident, before regaining her composure so quickly that I had almost forgotten her moment of indecision. Almost.

"Oh, this?" She fingered the locket."Tamaki gave it to me."

It seemed like a valid explanation, but somehow I wasn't buying it. However, if what she was claiming was true, Tamaki had the taste of a lovesick fangirl. The locket was overlarge and heart-shaped, engraved with the phrase "I love you" in swirly, cursive letters. Besides, even if he did give it to her, that doesn't mean she would have to wear it. The Haruhi Fujioka I knew would never have worn such a necklace. Or maybe she just wore it to shut him up.

"To answer your question, we're just going to the supermarket and back to my apartment," Haruhi answered quickly, changing the subjct at the speed of light.

"What happened the other day?" She seemed truly concerned as we entered the supermarket, the heels of her boots clacking against the tiled floors.

"I guess I was annoyed by those idiots and I...couldn't take it anymore. Honestly, I don't get how you deal with them everyday. I just don't belong there."

Actually, I probably didn't belong anywhere.

It was uncomfortably silent as we walked passed aisles of canned products, carefully selecting items that were at a reduced price.

Haruhi was waving a hand in front of my face, trying to pull me out of oblivion. "Hello? Ayame? Are you there?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." I put on a falsely cheerful voice and faked a broad grin.

"Alright, we're just about done-"

"Haruhi, darling!" an incredibly irritating voice called out, the owner of it waving his arms frantically, unsubtly calling us over. He was surrounded by his posse of damn rich brats, who were earning looks and murmurs from other shoppers.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?" I demanded, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.

I honestly felt sympathetic for Haruhi, I would rather die than be stalked by this Host Club every single day of my life. She had a pained expression on her face, as if she didn't know whether to scold him or not.

"Commoner stores are absolutely fascinating, in my opinion! It's also an opportunity for us to understand our darling Haruhi better!" Tamaki trilled, clapping his hands like a delighted toddler.

The twins were poking at a dried-up mango, and gesturing wildly at the wide variety of inexpensive tropical fruits, marveling at the remarkably low prices. Mori seemed to be preventing Honey from making a beeline towards the bakery, placing a strong hand on his mop of blonde hair while the youthful third year flailed his legs in an attempt to run. Kyoya was simply standing next to Tamaki, once again scrawling on his clipboard (not a surprise), ignoring his fellow idiotic club members.

I had absolutely nothing to say, so I dragged Haruhi to the cash register, paid for the groceries with some spare change I found in her wallet, and briskly exited the store.

"What was that about?" I questioned.

Haruhi sighed, running her fingers through her short brunette hair. "I ask myself that question every single day."

She turned left, and I followed, before we came to her two-floor apartment building. Haruhi pulled out an organized keyring, inserted it into a lock, and pushed open the door.

I was greeted by the scent of a pinecone air freshener, and a humble, tidy home. Everything was in place, Haruhi or/and her father had kept the small apartment neat and orderly. It was the complete opposite of my apartment, where objects were strewn across the floor and tables, dishes were piled high in the sink, and where the air was permeated with musty alcohol.

My father barely lifted a finger at our house; sometimes, after his late night shift at the bar, he would come staggering home, head straight towards his bedroom, which he never let me into, make several crashing and banging noises, before I would finally hear silence.

But some nights it wouldn't be so terrible. He would quietly sit down at the dinner table, ask me to cook a meal, and ask me how my day was. I would never give him an honest answer; I was too afraid of what would happen if I ended up relying on him for anything. But maybe I wanted to smile, just a Iittle at the thought of being happy with my father. I wondered if my mother had fallen in love with the quiet man who sat there patiently, wondered if her death had made him the wreck he was right now. If that was the truth...could I forgive him even though he had chosen misery over his daughter?

I kneeled across Haruhi in front of a table, sipping a cup of freshly brewed green tea.

"Why did you invite me here?" I asked, suddenly curious to know why this girl, who barely glanced at me in middle school, was acting like my best friend.

She leaned forward, squeezed my hand encouragingly, and smiled warmly, "I've noticed you around school, and Kyoya pointed you out. I guess I realized that no one really paid attention to you, and it was the same thing for me a little while ago."

"So," I drifted off, waiting for her to continue, finger lightly tapping the tabletop.

"Tell me what you like to do." The request was so random, so out-of-place that I didn't know how to respond for a second.

"Well, let's see," I pondered this for a moment, ignoring the sinking, suspicious feeling in stomach that something simply wasn't right. "Anything that has to do with art, I guess."

"Is singing included?" Haruhi asked automatically, and her eyes seemed to glinted.

"I guess," I replied, shrugging, and took another sip of tea, watching her warily. "Why?"

"Could you sing for me?" Haruhi inquired hopefully.

"Alright," I agreed to her request reluctantly. I still couldn't figure out what she could possibly be trying to get me to do. If it had something to do with that insane Host Club...

A few moments later, however, against my better judgement, I was sitting a creaky wooden stool, closing my eyes and opening my mouth.

"I've been believing in something so distant

As if I was human

And I've been denying this feeling of hopelessness

In me, in me

All the promises I made

Just to let you down

You believed in me, but I'm broken

I have nothing left

And all I feel is this cruel wanting

We've been falling for all this time

And now I'm lost in paradise

As much as I'd like the best not too exist

It still does

And as much as I like to feel like I belong here

I'm just as scared as you

I have nothing left

And all I feel is this cruel wanting

We've been falling for all this time And now I'm lost in paradise

Run away, run away

One day we won't feel this pain anymore

Shadows of you

Cause they won't let me go

So I have nothing left

And all I feel is this cruel wanting

We've been falling for all this time

And now I'm lost in paradise

Alone, I'm lost in paradise."

I strummed the last chord and released my final breath, opening my eyes, having closed them to allow the music to consume me like waves on a beach. The miraculous magic of the music faded away and I was left staring blankly ahead, as I did every time I finished a song. It was a sad reminder that I couldn't run away forever, that someday, sometime, I would eventually have to wake up into cold, hard reality.

Haruhi applauded, smiling broadly, "Wow, that was amazing!"

XXX

I walked out of the classroom, the bell having a run moments before, and stretched my arms and yawned widely, earning several glares from my peers.

Barely momens later, a pair of hands seized me from behind, while another tied a dark blindfold over my eyes. Several people gasped, but no one attempted to stop them as they dragged me across corridor after corridor. I thrashed and tried to escape but nothing would work, "Get the hell off of me!"

Suddenly, I was thrust through an open door and the familiar fragrance of rose petals greeted me and my blindfold was ripped off my face, exposing the identical grins of the copper-haired twins.

"Why the hell did you bring me here?" I snarled, glaring at the beaming club. "What the hell do you want from me?"

Bastards. Why were they so intent on associating themselves with someone like me? I wasn't particularly special in anyway, so why?

"This." Kyoya dangled a locket in front of his face, lips twisted in his signature smug smirk, and my eyes widened as I recognized the voice that was being emitted from it, but my eyes narrowed in a glare.

"Why you- Haruhi!" I growled at Haruhi, who laughing sheepishly and ran her fingers guiltity through her short hair.

I sat down on the plush chair that resembled a throne, the one that Tamaki regularly occupied, and crossed my arms and legs defiantly. "Fine, what do you want from me so badly?"

"Your voice," Mori answered simply, Honey sitting atop his shoulders and smiling radiantly, releasing an aura of irresistable cuteness.

"Yeah, Aya-chan, your voice is beautiful!" he chimed in cheerfully, and his solemn caretaker chanced a small, content smile.

"Join the club, Ayame," Tamaki urged, pleading with a 'puppy-dog' face, before giving me a charming wink. "I guarantee you'll be falling for me soon!"

I shoved him away, disgusted, before scoffing, "As if! There's no way I'm going to join this crackhead club anyways. You all are just wasting your time."

I was ready to exit the room and go home, as planned, but a curt voice stopped me in my tracks, as I was about to leave the room,"Your arts scholarship only covers half of the tuition, am I correct?"

I whirled around, surprised. "How did you know that?! That's-that's confidential-"

He adjused his glasses, smirking. "I know everything about this school. I thought that you were smart enough to realize that."

I wanted to hear what this intelligent boy had to offer me, so I tapped my foot on the ground impatiently as I asked, "Your point being?"

"If you work for us, I'll pay the rest of your tuition," he promised, before realizing his words did not sound exactly truthful. "I swear. It's as simple as that."

"You swear?" I narrowed my eyes and, concluding that he was serious about this deal, held my hand out for him to shake, as a sort of confirmation

"Now, would you sing for us again, Aya-chan?" Honey-senpai requested, eyes trembling and doe-like as usual, clutching his stuffed pink bunny, so that I was unable to refuse.

"Alright," I reluctantly agreed, but after all, who could resist Honey-senpai?. "Hmm, for accompaniment..."

"I'll do it!' Tamaki volunteered, much to my surprise.

"You can play the piano?" I asked, slightly shocked.

"Ever since I was five," he proclaimed proudly, pulling back a crimson curtain. It revealed a sparkling grand piano, and by its side, a medium-sized one.

I seated myself on the wooden bench closest to the medium-sized piano, all thoughts of singing flying out of my head in excitement. "Well, play a duet with me! What are you waiting for?"

A grin gradually spread over Tamaki's face as he joined me, running his fingers across the grand piano in a glissando before nodding to me, obviously eager to play. "Do you know Rowley's Concerto For Two Pianos?"

I nodded enthusiastically, the urge to finally play almost overwhelming as Tamaki played the first line of the score, filling the room with his beautiful and expressive notes.

I glanced at him every now and then. He seemed so at peace, so elegant and serene, and displayed a side of him that I had never seen before, as his fingers gracefully slid across the ivory keys. This was a Tamaki that I could become friends with, the one who's lips could turn up in a content smile while the ringing notes were emitted from the piano

Maybe I could respect him. Just maybe.

We finished the song, and as he carefully stood up from the piano bench, something overcame me. I caught him in an embrace, as I smiled into his violet eyes, "Thank you, that was amazing..."

He seemed to be shocked for a moment, but he casually brushed it off and leaned into my embrace.

I broke the beautiful silence that had arose and looked at Kyoya, before nodding confidently, eyes locked upon his.

I had no doubts anymore.


	3. Chapter 3- Battle of the Pastries?

I stared incredulously at the outfit that was in my hands, and Haruhi watched me warily, as if I was bomb about to explode. "Do they really expect me to dress like a slut?"

She visibly cringed, but tried to make me feel slightly better, running her fingers through her chocolate-brown hair. "Well, it's not that bad-"

"Look at this!" I exclaimed, brandishing the cosplay costume in her face, which consisted of a light-brown extra-tiny miniskirt, one of those stupid cow-skin jackets, a red cowboy hat with a cliche sherrif's star, and worst of all, six-inch heels. "And these heels! I don't do heels!"

Unfortunately for me and the rest of the club, Tamaki had chosen today's theme to be Western. And not Western like Europe, but _Western_ Western, which consisted of cowboys riding bareback on wild stallions, lassos, and-

Well, you get the idea.

Well, at least the rest of the Host Club got to wear _normal _cowboy boots and actually were able to preserve their dignity by wearing pants.

She grimaced, eyes on the miniskirt. "Yeah, you're right."

"It's a good thing I anticipated this, because I brought an extra change of clothes," I announced, rifling through my schoolbag for the plastic grocery bag that contained a white dress that I could tolerate wearing, which I knew Tamaki wouldn't be very pleased about, but hey, like I said, I value my dignity.

"Nice move." Haruhi nodded in approval, before frowning. "But-"

"It's a good thing _I _anticipated _this, _because I confiscated them from _you." _There was a swish as the curtains were parted, and an irritatingly familiar voice spoke, which belonged to a certain bespectacled boy I knew.

I turned around, scowling, and saw that Kyoya was dangling my plastic bag enticingly in front of me. As I lunged for it, he move it out of my reach, as he was quite a bit taller than me,"You little-"

I snarled, but my fierce expression didn't have the ability to discourage him, nd he merely adjusted his glasses.

"Just get changed," he ordered calmy, but his voice was enough to infuriate me.

"That bastard!" I muttered darkly under my breath, so I was only audible to Haruhi, gingerly picking up the cowskin jacket as if it was a dirty tissue. "Who does he think he is, telling me to dress like a whore-"

I probably could have gone on forever, but then I heard Kyoya's voice in my mind, reminding me that if I worked at the Host Club, he would pay the remainder of my tuition. I clenched my fists, and squeezed my eyes shut; come on, Ayame, it's only a stupid outfit, you can do this, you can do this..

No matter how many times I soothingly repeated this in my head, it didn't quench the desire to tear the outfit and Kyoya's smirking face into ribbons. That god damn bastard...

I knew that there was no way out of this fashion predicament, so I forced a grin (which probably made me look like I was about to cry) and said in what I hoped was a cheery voice, "I guess I'll just have to change! Excuse me, Haruhi..."

I gave her a little push toward the curtain, but she glanced back at me uncertainly, before shaking her head and exiting. I sighed, turning my attention back on the cowgirl cosplay that I inevitably had to wear, much to my chagrin. _You can do this, Ayame, you can conquer the cosplay. _

The heels were every bit as uncomfortable as I imagined, and I wobbled as I walked, body threatening me that if I didn't lose these shoes pronto, I would face-plant on the polished floor of Music Room #3. The cowgirl hat was just about as ridiculous as I predicted, and I had to resist the urge to slam it onto the ground and stomp at it with my half-foot heels. The miniskirt...let's not get into how slut-tish I felt.

Sighing theatrically, I hefted my backpack onto my cowskin jacket-clad shoulders, and picked up my guitar case. I was supposed to sing some stupid Western USA song, which I most certainly wouldn't stand for, and I was more indignant about it than the outfit. But, I thought, as my lower lip curled in a smirk, that was something Kyoya couldn't stop me from doing- singing a song that was well-suited to my definition of music.

Tamaki squealed and rushed over to me, tilting my chin up to further examine my face, before magically producing a makeup-bag and dusting my face with a bit of blush, so quickly that I could't strangle him before he moved, before he took a step back and stroked an imaginary beard, satisfied, "Ayame, dear, you look absolutely stunning! Hitachiin-san really is a lovely designer!"

"Speak for yourself," I muttered, before continuing to walk, wincing, towards the edge of the stage, pulling myself up, dragging a wooden stool to the center of it, and depositing my guitar case beside it.

The room was decorated to resemble a Western desert, with a sandy carpet and potted cacti placed at random places in the room. Other than that, the room was basically the same; the ordinary plush seats and coffee tables, the wide windows that gave one access to a breathtaking view of the academy campus.

"Hi Aya-chan!" Honey leapt onto the stage, dressed in a pony costume, grinning adorably, clapping his cosplay-enclosed hands together, before delightedly giving me a one-armed hug. "You look great!"

I managed a small smile for his sake; gosh, this kid really had quite an effect on my behavior, "You too, senpai."

He giggled, stood on tiptoe and kissed my cheek, before dashing off the stage, only to be lifted up by Mori and hoisted onto his strong shoulders.

Tamaki clapped his hands briskly, and the Host Club went rapt with attention, eyes on the king, "Places everyone! Our dear guests will be arriving in no time at all. Remember, our mission as a club is to-"

"Make every girl happy," everyone chorused, as if this was a Host Club ritual. I simply crossed my arms and rolled my eyes.

"Roger that, boss!" the twins spoke in unison, golden-green eyes glinting with mischief, copper-colored hair hidden behind cowboy hats.

The leader of the club made his way to the front of the room, shooting me a confident smile and a wink as he climbed the steps that led to the stage, where at the top, a podium that these rich bastards could afford awaited him. He adjusted the expensive microphone, gave it a little tap, and a dull noise resounded throughout the room, "Excellent."

The doors burst open, and in came a flood of girls that were desperate and rich enough to attend this crap, all looking increduously around the room, being politely ushered inside by Kyoya. I had to stifle a laugh at the sight of the brown, leather vest he was wearing other a white button-down shirt, and worn denim jeans. He shot me a glare, before returning to smiling as the girls crowded inside Music Room #3, welcoming them to this afternoon's event. I smirked, opened my guitar case, pretending to check if the strings were in tune, secretly snickering at Kyoya's outfit.

As the girls chose seats around their favorite hosts, Tamaki smiled charmingly at everyone and waved jovially. He cleared his throat, before announcing in a Southern accent, "Howdy everyone! Welcome to the Host Club! We have some very important news today!"

I was starting to receive a bit of attention from the guests; fierce glares, harsh whispers. However, oblivious to this, Tamaki continued his announcement, "We have a new member here in this club, Ayame Nakamura, who will be performing tonight! Please make her feel welcome to our new family, partners!" He beamed, hands clasped together in satisfaction, plainly not realizing that the guests would not make me feel welcome at all.

An icily beautiful girl with honey-blonde curls and chocolate-brown eyes stood up, and began applauding Tamaki. "Why, Tamaki-kun, I think that it's simply lovely that you're lending your hand out to the-" she sent me a candy-coated simpering look "-less fortunate of our elite academy, and you should be praised for your chivalrous efforts. I'm sure that all of us will make Ayame-san welcome here, right ladies?"

The girl glared daggers at the remainder of the guests, suggesting that she was their superior leader, and they nodded hastily.

I clenched my fist, who did this girl think she was? Less fortunate? Chivalrous efforts? Damn, this bitch had willingly signed her death wish and I was ready to explode her into designer-perfumed fragments...

But I slowly opened my fists, and put some effort into smiling at her, although I could feel one of my face muscles twitch. I could see now potential weapons, although I did consider my heels. I could just rip them off and chuck them at her face, mutilating her already-damaged mind.

I had no doubts that Kyoya was eagerly looking for ways to increase the time I had to work here, and would probably find a perfect opportunity if I so much as touched poor, delicate, little Mayumi-chan. I gradually relaxed; I would find some way to get revenge on her, "How...how courteous of you. Thank you for your...generosity, Mayumi-chan."

"Anytime, hon." She smirked at me, playing innocent and cute, but that didn't come close to quashing the desire to pulverize her face.

Our eyes locked for a moment, and the tension accumulated, and I could practically feel the whole entire room intake a sharp, raspy breath, as my narrowed green eyes met brown. This was war.

"Um, okay, so...hop to it!" Tamaki spoke nervously, violet eyes glancing from me to her as if we were nuclear bombs about to destroy Ouran Academy, temporarily abandoning the Western accent. But it suceeded in shatteing the tension.

Mayumi shot me a look that plainly said, "I'll kill you later.", before smiling sweetly at the idiot and curtsying flirtatiously, tossing her blonde curls over her shoulder."Yes, dear, of course."

He smiled, relieved, and the icy atmosphere disappeared, as the hosts began to chat up their guests, and the giggles and cheerful voices filled the air. Tamaki glanced at me worriedly. Mayumi beckoned him towards herself, and he obliged; as he approached, she intertwined her hand in his, and led him towards her table, shooting me a smug look.

I sat awkwardy, alone, perched on my stool, watching as the scene of what was supposed to be an ordinary day in the club unfolded in front of me. The twins were flirting with each other, gazing dreamily into each other's eyes. Honey was sitting comfortably on Mori's shoulders, and was giving off his contagiously happy aura that made the guests surrounding him coo with delight. Haruhi was sitting on a plush couch, sending her signature "natural" smile at the few girls that were practically cuddled up next to her, chatting idly. Tamaki was flirting with a member of Mayumi's little posse, and was gently tickling her chin as she was in his lap, no doubt charming her with one of his large array of cliche love quotes. But someone was missing...

A pair of hands shoved three trays in my direction, and I stumbled, startled, and managed to catch two of them in my hands, the other on my oustretched leg, wobbling slightly.

I scowled at him. "What the hell was that for? I'm not Superwoman, you know!" I flicked my leg out slightly and the tray jumped onto my hands, landing on top of another one with a sharp clang. "You could have killed me!"

Kyoya ignored me, adjusted his glasses and smirked, irritating me further. "Are you planning on sitting here the entire time?"

"That's what I had in mind," I snarled, silently threatening to smash the trays of assorted pastries into his face. "What are these for anyway?"

"I would have thought that was obvious," he replied smugly, tone suggesting that he was the supreme leader of the universe. "Just serve them to our customers, talk a little bit, and get them to stop hating you."

I put on a mock-hurt face, "I knew that was true, but did you really have to be so blunt?" When he didn't respond, I sighed, dejectedly blowing the bangs out of my face. "It's pretty obvious. You saw that little episode with Mayumi. Who is she anyway?"

"The daughter of an important Otori client," he answered quite simply, jotting something down on his clipboard and walking away, lifting a hand as if shooing me away. "Now, now, the customers are waiting."

I blew out my cheeks, balancing the trays in my hands. Bastard.

Stepping gingerly off the stage, I plastered on my best impression of a movie-star smile, corrected my slouching posture, and offered the pastries like a cowgirl waittress. I received little smiles, polite 'thank-yous', as the customers accepted the pastries. Maybe Kyoya was right, the pastry approach had taken off fairly smoothly,

But then, I glimpsed Mayumi's honey-sweet, serpent-venomous look, and the smile slipped off of my face, and transformed into a snarl. I finished handing the guests at the table closest to her's a custard tart, and she beckoned me over. I had no choice but to oblige, so I took a deep breath, attempted a face-twitching smile, and asked, as courteously as I could, "Yes, Mayumi-chan?"

"Oh, Tamaki, dear." She turned to the utterly-oblivious host next to her. "Could you give Ayame-chan and I a moment? I would like to have a nice, cozy chat with her."

I winced, doubting that this chat would be 'nice and cozy' at all, preparing myself for whatever she was planning to do with me. If she short-circuited my temper with whatever she was about to say to me...things could get ugly.

"Alright, then!" Tamaki trilled, standing up, casually dusting off his cowboy pants, and posing heroically. "Glad to see you girls are getting along. That's simply lovely. Enjoy your heart-to-heart talk, ladies!"

"Yes, Suoh," I replied weakly, placing the trays on the coffee table. "We'll enjoy ourselves to the fullest extent."

He winked at me, and waltzed away, no doubt to report to Kyoya about our miraculous breakthrough after the earlier tension.

She noticed that I was looking after him, lips upturned in a little smile, and sniffed haughtily, abandoning the candy-coated attitude when there was no one to put on a performance for. "You must be enjoying yourself, no?"

I turned my attention back to her, head tilted to the side, "Hm?"

"Of course," she answered, exasperated, as if I was the stupid, overgrown brat that wouldn't shut her face. "You're enjoying the attention you're getting from him and the rest of the club. I believe your head has gotten inflated, due to the attention you're getting. This isn't a reason to make you feel important, sewer rat."

Oh, so _I_ was the inflated sewer rat? That just about burst my bubble, but I kept my cool so I wouldn't give that stupid whore the satisfaction. "Is that all you have to say to me? Anyways, before I move on, would you like a pastry?"

She snarled, obviously frustrated that her insults hadn't done anything to me, but took a pastry anyway. "My theory is that you believe that you're better than everyone else, and are trying in to break their poor, poor hearts later. You're nothing but a filthy slut who doesn't know her place!"

Mayumi threw her pastry at my face, and it slid down my cheek, leaving a custardy smear on my skin. I raised my hand to touch it in disbelief.

My blood boiled, and for the next few moments, I couldn't hear anything but the pulse of my angry heart, as I bared my teeth, grabbed an empty tray and a full one, brandishing them menacingly, like a sword and shield. "Oh, it's on, bitch."

She smirked, but there was no way she was going to win a food battle with me, especially if she was afraid of getting her hands dirty. She snatched a cup from her friend's hands and tossed it at my face, but I ducked, and it smashed against the floor, leaving a pile of china shards and spilled coffee behind.

Grabbing a few pastries, I tossed a few in her direction, and she held up her hands in an 'x' to prevent them from smacking her face, staining her buttercup-yellow sleeves.

Pretty soon, quite a few heads were turned in our direction, eyes widening in horror as they saw that we were engaging in a heated battle. Her friends weakly pelted me with cake, scones, biscuits, and whatever else was available to them. I retaliated with some custards of my own, ducked, swerved, dodged, and rolled on the ground, and used my empty tray to block enemy attacks.

Barely moments later, chaos reigned, and all I could see was food flying everywhere, and the guests that were out of earshot of Mayumi's table were confusedly throwing their pastries aimlessly around the room. I grinned as one smacked Kyoya's forehead, crumbs and chocolate cream sliding down his face,

It felt so exhilirating, despite the fact that the club was probably going to murder me later for destroying their meeting room, but for moment, all that ran through my mind was 'what the hell'. I wasn't concious of much else but the pastries and trays that were gripped in my hands, and I may have let out an insane laugh once or twice. It felt amazing to see Mayumi cowering below my fierce attack, a helpless heap of yellow cloth, overgrown brat, and the Host Club's sweets.

Through the thick curtain of flying food, I could see Tamaki's vague silhouette as he danced into the room, and sang, "Ladies! How was your-"

He paused as he gazed across the room, to where we were battling it out, obviously confused. "Wait, what happened-

"Oh, Tamaki, dear," the venemous sugar was back in her voice as she whined, somehow sliding gracefully over to where he was standing, sighing theatrically, "Nakamura-chan attacked me! I attempted to talk to her, but it seems the hatred runs deep. Tamaki, whatever shall I do?"

"Kindly talk to me?! You called me an inflated sewer rat!" I hissed, dropping my trays on the ground with the sound of metal clattering on tiles and clenched my fists. "Tamaki, don't listen to her!"

"I...I," Tamaki stammered, and I realized how unconvincing I seemed to him against her. Of course it was more likely that I'd be the stupid one that came up with the absolutely brilliant idea to start a pastry fight. Absolutely fucking fantastic.

"I believe you, Nakamura," he spoke firmly, shoving her away from him.

"You what?" I gradually unclenched my sweatly fists, my nails leaving red marks on my palm, in disbelief, "You actually-actually-"

"Believe you? Yes," Tamaki transferred his attention to Mayumi, fixing her with a steely, hard gaze that made her cringe, as if he were about to slap her.

Kyoya laid a hand on her shoulder, smiling politely and gesturing to the gilded doors of Music Room #3. "Please, I believe it's time for you to leave now."

Her lip quivered, and she hastily wiped her watery eyes with her sleeve, smearing more pastry-mush onto it. "Tamaki...you idiot!"

She ran away from him, and she pushed open the doors, and violently slammed them shut, with a sharp sound that echoed throughout the room.

The leader of the club scrambled to the top of the stage, and attempted to restore order within the distraught crowd, tapping the microphone to draw their attention, "I'm sorry, my dears, but I'm afraid we have to cut today's activities short to clean our gathering room. We apologize for this inconvenience, and hoped you enjoyed today's events! Thank you, and please come again!"

His monologue, however, did not cheer the customers up much, and it was obvious hat they hadn't found much joy in today's pastry episode.

No one looked at me, or spoke to me, which left a sinking feeling in my stomach. How could I have been so stupid?

After the door swung shut, there was a moment of pure silence, before the twins patted me on the back, laughing and congratulating me.

I didn't reply; only turning on my heels to face Tamaki, the one who I felt deserved the apology, and I was ready to take full responsibility for my actions, "Tamaki, I'm really sorry."

I spoke softly, lacing my hands together and staring at the ground, not wanting to look into those violet eyes, I desperately wanted to say something more meaningful, but I just couldn't choke the words out.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and looked up, startled. Those violet eyes were looking at me with a sincere kindness. After all, inspecting the room, I could see the overturned tables, china shards, spilled drinks, pastry crumbs and cream, scattered throughout the room. Had I really started this? And yet, here he was, willing to forgive me everything.

I finally understood why people felt so drawn to him, why people liked being around him, even though he could be irritating at times. They were drawn to his pure heart. I felt a surge of warmth towards him as he tousled my hair, "It's alright, but," he hesitated, his lips upturning in a small, but reluctant smile, and added as an afterthought, "please don't do something like that again."

I laughed, and the bad feeling in my gut vanished, and suddenly I couldn't stop giggling, clutching my strained stomach. Resting a hand on his shoulder for support, I managed to gasp, "I...threw a pastry...at her face!"

Tamaki chuckled, and for a moment, we leaned on each other, laughing to the brink of insanity, as the rest of the club just stared at us. This was the Tamaki that could be my friend.

Kyoya walked over, adjusted his spectacles, and the sight of a smear of pastry on his face sent me into another fit of hysterics, but he simply gave me a minty smile and gestured around the room, "I hope you know that it's your responsibility to clean this mess up."

The happy-go-lucky grin slipped off my face and I sighed, bending down to pick up my tray and a stray chocolate croissant.


	4. Chapter 4- A Visit Gone Terribly Wrong

I yawned, stretched, and slumped back into the chair, finally having completed tonight's homework assignment. I was ready to force myself out of my desk chair and flop onto my bed when I was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door.

I hesitated for a moment; could it just be some goofball playing his/her idea of a hilarious prank? Besides, what sane person would knock on my door at this time of night? What if it was a burglar, a stalker, a child molester, and even worse, a rapist?

Gritting my teeth and stumbling clumsily towards the door, I sucked in a breath, and pressed a squinting eye to the peephole, glimpsing a familiar chocolate brunette. I let out a sigh of relief, and yanked open the door, and was greeted by a gust of bitter, autumn wind and a weary "hello".

"Haruhi?" I inquired, observing that she appeared to have been attacked by a leaf blower, as her cropped short hair was sticking in all different directions, her clothes wrinkled and rumpled, "What happened? Why are you-"

"Nakamura-chan!" my patience was tested this time, and I had to bite my lip to keep from exploding at him. Why did they have to come now?!

I glanced downwards, taking a look at my battered watch, before wincing, concluding that it was only a matter of time before my father came home. What if they found out? I had to give them whatever they wanted from me, and quickly get them to leave.

I began to panic inwardly, unsure of whether to be polite and invite them in, or to make up some lame excuse and somehow force them to leave. But could I really say 'no' to them? Somehow, even though they often managed to infuriate me in ways I didn't even know were impossible, I had to admit that, against my better judgement, I wanted them to know. After all, didn't they deserve the truth?

However, no matter what I told myself, I couldn't deny that I was afraid of falling. Afraid of gambling my friendship for the truth. I decided that I would avoid the topic as best as I could, but if it came up, I would just grit my teeth and spit it out.

Tamaki cocked his head to the side, cerulean eyes quizzical, "Hmm? Nakamura-chan, are you alright?"

I shook my head slightly, just to clear my head, and beckoned them forward, "Sorry, just kind of tired right now. Why don't you come in?"

I attempted to keep my voice calm and even, trying to conceal the panic that welled up in my chest. Was I that much of a coward to be able to run away from the truth? But this was my one fear, wasn't it? The Host Club...Despite the fact that 99% of the time they were irritating stalkers that wouldn't get off my life, they had accepted me and allowed me to become a part of them, what would they do if they found out what I had been hiding all of this time? Would they pity me? Stay with me? Or, in the worst case, run away? I was, after all, the artsy loser with a sharp tongue and short temper that was raised by a drunk parent with no friends whatsoever. Why should my label be any different at Ouran Academy?

I forced my pessimistic thoughts out of my head, and attempted a winning hostess smile as I gestured to a battered, old leather sofa, which was adorned by a few worn, red pillows with frayed edges.

I glanced several times around the room, with a slight hint of satisfaction and pride. I tried my hardest to make my house appear presentable, but that was easier said than done, what with juggling school with a part-time job, and now Host Club activities. I swept the floors, cooked my own meals (which consisted of peanut-butter jelly sandwiches 24/7 until I trusted myself enough to be able to use the oven and stove), attempted to rid my apartment of beer cans and scraps of random food that I purchased at the grocery store, scrubbed the floors with a dirty, old rag, washed the dust on the sofa away. No matter how many times I attempted to tidy up my living quarters, there was no way in hell that I was going to make it look satisfactory to the Host Club members.

Besides, Tamaki and/or the twins would find some way to accidentally offend me about the quality of my apartment, while desperately attempting not to. Wonderful, absolutely wonderful...

"Alright," the narcissistic blonde and the copper-haired twins had their little heads pressed together, attempting to conceal their discussion, but failing horribly, their harsh, quick whispers echoing off the paint-peeling walls of my furniture-scarce apartment. "We can't say or do anything to offend Nakamura, remember, she's courteous enough to invite us in here, and we most certainly will not make any remarks about the quality of this room."

The twins nodded enthusiastically, captivated by his speech, drinking in his every word, "Yes, boss."

I gritted my teeth, and muttered softly, almost inaudible,"Too late."

Haruhi heard me and shot a sympathetic look in my direction.I turned around to face them, plastering a grin on my face, and facing them, "Want some tea?"

Tamaki forcefully nudged Hikaru and Kaoru in the ribs, hissing in what he would have considered quiet voice, "Be polite and accept. Commoners often drink green tea to lessen anxiety."

I exhaled, puffing out my cheeks in frustration and sending bangs floating upward, and resisted the urge to bang my head against the wall in frustration and to kick the Host Club out of my apartment. I settled for sighing, and momentarily slapping my palm to my forehead, before sulking into the kitchen to prepare the tea. Standing on tiptoe, I barely managed to brush the edge of the wooden handle, pulling open the cabinet with a faint creak. I swiped my hand to snatch what I estimated to be about eight teabags, and dumped them on my kitchen table, ripping open the packages and placing the pouch of green tea leaves into a chipped mug. I turned the tap on, grabbing a tea kettle and allowing the water to trickle into it, before shutting it and placing it on the stove, twisting the knob and watcing as a small flame roared to life, boiling the water. I stretched my arms above my head, reluctantly returning to my guests sitting on the sofa. I pulled up a wooden stool from the kitchen to the coffee table.

"So, what brings you all here today?" I inquired, honestly curious, but also wanting to make a bit of conversation, to lessen the awkward atmosphere.

"Well," Kyoya replied, tone silky and even, sitting with perfect poise, which contradicted my worn, but comfortable couch. "Tamaki wanted to visit your home, so I merely looked up your address on the Ouran records, and found out the location of it."

I pushed this thought from my head, and muttered under my breath, "Stalkers."

Kyoya smirked, and pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose, as if that was necessary. "I thought I told you already, I know everything about Ouran Academy."

I had nothing to say to that, and was spared the agony of responding when I heard the whistle of the tea kettle, striding into the kitchen to turn off the fire, pouring the boiled water into the cups. I slammed them on an old Christmas tray that was painted with an image of a pine tree, and strolled into the living room.

I passed the steaming cups to the club, who politely accepted them, and I had to admit that it was nice to simply sit around and enjoy with my friends. I felt some of the tension leave my body, and I relaxed, letting my guard down as we chatted idly, as the minutes flew by.

The door was suddenly flung open and I gasped, a hand covering my mouth. He was here, wasn't he?! How stupid could I possibly be? I should have been more careful, and now...? Don't panic, calm down, just put him to bed...relax...

But I couldn't, my heart was pounding a million miles a second, and my breathing became harsh and ragged as time seemed to hang in the air, the seconds inching by agonizingly slowly.

My father's hair was matted and grimy, and his face was a crimson red color, an obvious sign that this wasn't one his better days. His eyes were a dead brown, and he stumbled into the apartment, kicking off his worn shoes and bringing the sharp smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke with him. HE almost collapsed on the living room carpet in front of me, speech slurred as he announced, "I'mmmmhomee."

I squeezed my eyes shut, and I could practically hear the rush of blood pounding my hears, feel my heartbeat resound through every particle of my body.

I had been so foolish, thinking that I was courageous enough to tell them the truth, to not run away, as I had done all my life, to face my fears...but no, I was a pathetic coward, and what kind of friend was I?

"Hi, dad," I managed to gasp, jarring my petrification enough to pat him awkwardly on the head, repressing the shudder of disgust.

"Who...whoarethey?" he spoke, shaking his head as he stood up, staggering slightly, placing a hand on my shoulder to steady himself.

"My...my...friends," I choked out, insides contracting painfully.

"Nakamura-chan?" Tamaki's voice inquired, and I had to hold back tears as I heard the confusion. It was heart-breaking; heart-breaking that my friends hadn't a clue what was going on, heart-breaking that I couldn't trust, heart-breaking that I couldn't say a word.

"Did..they 'urt you," he drunkenly questioned, pointing and accusing finger in their direction. "Because if...theydid..."

I reached out my hand to stop him, even though my fingers were visible trembly and it was the most scared I'd been since as long as I could remember. "Dad-"

He thrust my hand off of his shoulder with such force that I was pushed out of the stool to sprawl on the floor, eyes wide in shock. "I'llkilllthem!"

Kyoya stood up, eerily calm, as if he was the one responsible for protecting his friends.

"Youhurther," he hissed, still in his drunk, killing daze, eyes murderous, hand trembling as it was pointed in his direction, caked with mud and filth, permeating the air with the stench of a bar.

"No." He barely even flinched, and his voice was steady. "If you would just allow me to-

"BASTARD!" my father howled, and then, faster than I would have believed, lunged forward to slap him in the face, knocking his glasses off and leaving an angry red mark on his cheek.

Kyoya backed away, wincing as he clutched his cheek. I ran forward, pulled my father away, and held him in my arms as he passed out.

I gasped, and I pointed to the door, choking, "Go...please. Just go."

I ran into my room, burying my face into my palms, slamming the door shut. I heard a couple of murmurs, but after a couple of moments, I could hear the patter of footsteps and the creak of the front door, leaving me alone in the house, with no one for company but an unconscious, drunk father. But why would that thought come to my mind? I had been alone with him for years, why should it be any different now? Why did it suddenly feel so painful?

A horrifying thought struck me; what would the Otoris do to us? Would Kyoya hire some mega-army of professional lawyers to convict us and take away everything we owned? After all, there was no way we could pay for-

I climbed on my bed, and stared at the ceiling, and soon fell asleep, hugging my knees to my chest, curling myself into a protective ball.

XXX

The next day at Ouran, I did my best to avoid Tamaki and Kyoya during class time; taking a seat on the opposite side of the classroom.

After the last period bell rang, I shoved my History of England textbooks in my paint-splattered backpack, and hurried out of the room before either one of my fellow Host Clubs members could approach me. Maybe some part of me hoped that perhaps they would.

Deciding that I need a breath of fresh air and a quiet place to sort out my chaotic thoughts, I decided to skip today's club event and head over to the academy gardens.

The garden was filled with numerous species of flowers, all swirling together to create a tantalizing aroma, swaying in the autumn breeze. The leaves on the surrounding trees were transforming into a pale gold and deep red, and the atmosphere was peaceful and serene. I took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent and absorbing the breathtaking scene right before my eyes, and plopped myself down on the seat of a gazebo, pulling out a pencil and my sketchpad.

It was quiet, except for the occasional chirping of a bird and the scratch of pencil on paper, and I felt content and at peace with myself, sitting alone, just like the way I used to. I felt some of the tension and worry vanish, my lips upturned in a satisfied smile as I concentrated on drawing the petals of an intricate rose, until...

"Lovely day, isn't it?"

The smile on my face faded and transformed into a scowl as I looked up, frown only deepening when I realized who it was.

"Kyoya," I growled, squeezing my pencil. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He smiled pleasantly, gripping his clipboard and climbing the small flight of steps in the gazebo to sit next to me, elbow on the edge, gazing at the flowers, "I was just studying the plants. It's a gorgeous time of year."

I chose not to say anything.

"And," he added, with less confident this time," I thought that you'd be here."

Why did he want to talk?

"Why would you want to find me?" I asked coldly, eyes fixed firmly on my half-finished sketch, hands clapsed tightly together.

"Because I'm your friend, and I want to talk about last night," he replied firmly, and my pupils dilated, but I refused to look up, hiding the surprise on my face.

"Did you really believe that we would think different of you just because your father is the way he is?" his tone was honest, slightly urgent, genuine, but oddly reassuring, and I felt comforted. He truly, honestly cared. "Why didn't you tell us? We would have accepted it, because it's you that matters, not your father."

I didn't respond, tears threatening to spill over my eyes, as I reached up to brush his cheek; the red mark that was the aftermath of the slap.

How could I have not been able to tell them the truth? If I had, maybe Kyoya wouldn't have gotten hurt. They were my friends and..I should have known that they would have accepted me no matter what.

"Just come back to the club, idiot. Tamaki won't shut up about you not being there," he stood up, and offered his hand to me.

I took his proffered hand, placing my sketchbook back in my bag, and smiling confidently, once again reassured.

His hand was cool and smooth in mine as I hoisted myself up, my heart feeling lighter, "Ha, maybe you're not such a bad person. You can be nice sometimes."

"Don't count on it, Nakamura."

"...thought so."


	5. Chapter 5- Signs

The next few weeks whirled by without much activity, well, unless you discount several incidents that occurred between me and some of the Host Club guests.

Until I started receiving messages from "him".

One golden, perfect autumn day, cool and crisp, I wandered to the gardens during break, the flowers wilting slightly as the weather became colder and colder. The leaves were withering to a distasteful muddy brown, and had begun to blanket the narrow stone pathway, but nevertheless, it was beautiful and blissfully empty.

A small robin began to whistle from the treetops, and I smiled, absorbing the sweet music, inhaling the perfume, and savoring the weather, which I knew before long would fade to the cold, dreary days of winter.

I seated myself on the familiar gazebo, and watched as it, chirping cheerfully, leaped gracefully with a small flutter of wings from branch to branch. My lips upturned softly, as I watched it land on the edge of the gazebo, serenading me as I enjoyed the peaceful, friendly atmosphere, and the red-chested robin, who was obviously braver than most.

I tentatively reached out to stroke its back, but it bowed his head, as if it was giving me permission to. I grinned widely, absentmindedly giving it a few pats as it tweeted.

I heard a rustle in a few bushes, and could swear that I felt a mysterious and unwelcome presence behind me, but when I looked behind me, there was nothing, and I managed to half-convince myself that it was a squirrel or my overactive imagination. However, I couldn't shake the strange feeling.

I attempted to casually brush it off, laugh it away, call myself a delusional freak, etc..but the sensation of the ominous presence simply would not leave my mind, and continued to haunt me for the remainder of the day...was I sure that it was nothing to be concerned about?

The next morning, I woke up bright and early, tossed on my clothes, grabbed my backpack, and thrust open the door. I couldn't sleep, and my eyes were swollen with exhaustion, as the thought that I was being watched disturbed my rest and filled me with a sort of panic. A panic that just wouldn't disappear. I just had to check that garden one more time, just to put my active and creeped-out mind to rest, to convince myself that it was simply my imagination.

I unconsciously held my breath, as I gazed, wide-eyed, at my surroundings, but it was as quiet and deserted as usual, and I let out a sigh of relief. Just to be safe, I strode to the gazebo, and sat down in the spot I frequented.

I sighed, at first reassured and calm. However, it quickly melted into a gasp of horror and surprise as I glimpsed the corpse of the robin, breast stained red from a terrifying gash that ripped across its chest, crimson blood trickling softly from the wound.

What had happened? It wasn't a coincidence, the bird I "happened" to be growing fond of was murdered the day after I felt that odd presence. Was someone onto me? But who would go as far as to kill a bird, just to get on my nerves? Would someone actually do that simply to irritate me, put a negative spin on my day? It seemed so unreal...

The next week, when I had just arrived home from Ouran Academy, I was removing a the mail from its designated box when I felt something glossy in between my fingertips. Scowling, I brought it to eye view, and gasped, nearly dropping the paper in surprise.

It was a photo of a beautiful blonde woman with almond-shaped emerald-green eyes, wearing an elegant, wine-colored dress and smiling at the camera. Her eyes were exactly like mine.

Was this my mom?

There was a gash running diagonally across the picture, slicing through her body, but her features were as clear as if it wasn't present.

I shivered, tucking the image inside of my backpack; was this another secretive message from my stalker? What did he or she want with me? Was this someone's insane idea of a prank? But what practical joker could actually produce a photograph of my mom? Something was just so off...

There was no way I could laugh it off anymore, what was happening? First the murdered bird, and now a picture of my dead mom miraculously appears? I couldn't just believe that this was a coincidence. Someone was out to get me and there was no point in denying it.

One thought struck me; was my stalker going to hurt the Host Club in any way? I was more concerned about that than anything else. What was I like now because of them? What would I do if he or she hurt them, and it was my fault?

XXX

One day, I exited the classroom, after a completely normal and unordinary day of school, stretched my arms above my head, and sighed, not wanting to attend today's Host Club meeting.

However, I had barely taken a step in the direction of Music Room #3 when I was seized roughly by a pair of hands, a blindfold quickly whipped over my eyes.

Sound familiar to you?

"HIKARU! KAORU!" I bellowed, thrashing wildly in their iron grip, and I probably turned a considerable amount of heads as they dragged me roughly across the polished floors of Ouran Academy. "LET ME GO, YOU BASTARDS! I SWEAR TO GOD, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU LATER!"

I heard a few snickers, and I sighed, falling limp in their arms. There was absolutely no point in struggling. Damn first-year brats.

I felt the smooth corridor floors melt away into plush red carpet, and felt a thud every time the two idiots dragged me down a single step.

"Ow!" I shouted indignantly, flailing my arms around wildly. "Be careful, you twits! That seriously hurts!"

I heard a snicker, "If you insist..."

Suddenly, I was hoisted into the air and nestled against their chests, rushing down the grand staircase at top speed. "That's even worse! What do you want from my life?!"

Even though I was blindfolded, I could just see a few rays of sunlight, and felt the warmth on my skin. Where the hell were the bastards taking me? This obviously wasn't Music Room #3...

Several times this week, I received little slips of paper with phrases like "I'm watching you." written in spidery handwriting and red ink. However, I would barely glance at them anymore, before chucking them into the garbage can. The crap wasn't worth my attention. Whoever the stalker was, he was losing his touch; after a while, the fear factor melted away and I would mostly just forget about. But...I couldn't shake the image of the murdered robin, or the photograph of what I assumed to be my mother...

I was thrust into what I guessed to be a car, because the sunlight faded away behind my eyelids and I touched what felt like smooth leather. By now, I was really curious.

The moment I was released, I shook my head and whipped the blindfold off of my face, blinking in surprise at the sight of the sight of the sleek, black limousine and the grinning faces of seven very familiar people, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AYAME!"

"Wait, what?" I cocked my head to the side in confusion, but a part of me was pleasantly surprised; they had done this for me? "How did you know...?

I never held my birthday in high regard; the only real importance of it was just that another year of your life had gone by. I was a year older. Woo-hoo. Besides, I could never afford to do anything special and it's not like my father would have bought me a present, if he even remembered. But the Host Club...they knew?

"I managed to access the school records and found out when your birthday was," Kyoya answered smugly, from his seat to my immediate right, adjusting his spectacles snobbishly, in the way that made me want to punch the living daylights out of him.

"Of course, silly me," I muttered under my breath; you would have thought that I might have gotten used to his extensive research and desire to know as much as possible. "So..what are you planning to do? I wasn't really expecting anything."

The limousine began to move, driving smoothly, as Tamaki gasped theatrically, looking scandalized, "Not expecting anything? My dear, your birthday is a very special day! The day you graced this world with your presence!"

"Thanks for stating the obvious." I wasn't in the mood for his insane antics, and he still hadn't answered my perfectly reasonable question.

He fainted dramatically in Haruhi's lap, lamenting to her about my piteous ignorance, and I had to stifle a laugh at the hilarious, exasperated look that she sent my way.

In order to save my friend from being irritated to tears with Tamaki's monologue, and to further inflate his ego, I cleared my throat. "Well, I'm sure we'll enjoy ourselves today. Thank you, everyone. This is really nice of you."

The hyperactive glint was back into his cerulean eyes as he snapped back up, as he usually did, and gushed, "Well, you're welcome, Ayame-chan. Such is the generosity of the beautiful! As I always say, 'It's rare that God makes someone like me, beautiful inside and out..'"

Despite my better judgement, my lips upturned in a little smile; Tamaki could sure brighten up your day.

"The festival?" I asked incredulously, watching the limousine slowly halt into a colorful orange and yellow banner.

The Fall Festival was an annual celebration that commenced in a nearby small beach, with a live band, a boardwalk, and a few small rides.

I never was interested in the festival, and I felt like it was a complete waste of my time; there were so many more worthwhile things to do. But to think that Tamaki would be interested in taking me here?

"I wanted you and Haruhi to show us an example of what commoners do for fun," Tamaki trilled, watching, mesmerized, as a tall man sold balloons to a group of toddlers, and a teenage boy boredly lobbed golf balls at bowls of goldfish.

"Um." I caught the chocolate brunette's eye and exchanged yet another exasperated glance. I mouthed for her to stay strong, before smiling sweetly at the naive boy. "Sure, Tamaki. Thanks for taking us here."

I elbowed her forcefully in the ribs, causing her to look reproachfully at me, but at last, she reluctantly grinned at Tamaki, running her fingers through her hair. "We would love to, senpai."

He lost it completely at that, gazing into her warm brown eyes, and wrapping his arms around her, nearly suffocating her. "Oh, Haruhi, you're just too cute!"

I noticed that several people were staring in wonder at the limousine, which had pulled to the curb and was beginning to peel away, murmuring and pointing in our direction. Of course, they wouldn't expect a whole posse of Ouran students to turn up at such a washed-out celebration.

I poked Tamaki in the arm a couple of times, until I received his attention and he released Haruhi, who was gasping and massaging her neck. "Um, Tamaki? We better get a move on. People are starting to stare."

"Of course, the public recognizes my brilliance," he sang, sparkling with radiance and waving gracefully at the people who were staring dumbfoundedly. "Greetings, commoners of the free-"

"Come on, idiot," I snatched Tamaki by the wrist, not wanting him to offend anymore people, as he waved and blew kisses at his "admirers", while the the rest of the club hurried to follow.

XXX

Pale face contorted in concentration, violet eyes serious, Tamaki reared back his hand and pathetically attempted to throw the dart,I sighed, tapping my foot as I waited for him to finish and to receive his very small prize. The operator mock-applauded him, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, as he handed him a teddy bear that was about the size of my fist.

Looking proud of himself, Tamaki accepted the prize, saluted the operator, who gave him an incredulous look. He handed it confidently to Haruhi, who gazed down at it, before cradling it in her arms. "Thanks, senpai."

Mori was next-door, at the basketball station, swiftly depositing the flappy balls in the basket with ease, earning a large stuffed, presumably very fluffy, stuffed elephant, and a wink from the blonde woman behind the counter.

I assumed that he was going to hand it over to Honey, but, to my surprise, he placed it gently in my arms, "Happy birthday,"

"Wow, Mori-senpai." I cuddled the elephant, rubbing its soft fur onto my cheek. "Thanks."

He nodded, his way of saying "you're welcome" and went back over to the expectant Honey, and hoisted him onto his shoulders, walking to the next booth. I couldn't help but smile, swaying the elephant back and forth.

XXX

I sat on the small beach with my knees hugged to my chest, hair flying in the cool breeze, hearing the chatter of the people bustling in the festival behind me. I was watching the waves wash calmly over the gritty sand, feeling utterly, blissfully content.

The Host Club had gone to buy a few snacks as the red sun was dipping below the horizon, but I had abstained, savoring the quiet, peaceful moment.

Suddenly, with a jolt, I was dragged up, and almost tripped flat on my face. I whirled around, ready with an angry retort, only to see Honey-senpai looking expectantly at me, tugging at my arm like a little toddler. My heart melted, anger fading away instantly. "Hi, senpai! What's up?"

"Come on, Aya-chan!" A mysterious yet adorable smile laced his boyish features and he bounced estatically up and down, before grabbing my wrist and pulling me across the sandy beach and into the crowd.

He led me to the rest of the Host Club, straining to see or hear something. I frowned, trying to figure out what had caught their attention. Everyone seemed to be buzzing angrily, as if they were disappointed, waiting impatiently in front of a stage that was unfolded out of the back of a truck. A man holding an electric guitar and a microphone was laughing nervously, tapping the mic to restore order and peace. "We apologize for the convenience. I'm afraid that our lead singer is missing and we can't perform tonight as planned-"

I met Tamaki's violet eyes, which were brimming with confidence, and he mouthed at me, 'Go for it.' I felt a shiver run up and down my spine, and my insane courage took over for a moment, and time seemed to freeze in its tracks as I tentatively raised my hand and shouted above the din, "I'll do it!"

The crowd quieted down and stared at me incredulously, but I ignored them, this could possibly my moment, the one destiny led me to, and I wasn't going to be shamed into stopping me.

The guitarist looked at me as if I was insane, which I probably was, before grinning at me in relief and beckoning me on the stage, "Alright, girl, give it your best shot!"

I glanced at Tamaki, who gave me a reassuring wink, settled my shoulders proudly. The crowd parted to allow me through, every eye upon me, and the man gripped my hand to hoist me onto the stage, fixing me with a steely gaze.

I mouthed to him, 'Ocean Avenue.', and he nodded seriously, understanding my message, before gesturing and muttering to the bassist, drummer, and keyboardist. "So..what's your name, little lady?" He asked, tone light and friendly, before handing me the mic.

"Ayame Nakamura."

"Well, Nakamura-chan, best of luck to you!" he shouted, striking the first chord and signalling the beginning of the song.

The crowd tentatively applauded, looking unsure and hesitant, but I merely smiled, closed my eyes, and began to sing.

I pictured myself as if I was the singer of the song, the one who had to leave his lover, and was desperately trying to reach her to escape and run away from the pain. I was there, I was watching it all unfold, singing my heart out, swaying to the beat, letting the music wash over me like the waves on the beach. My heart was speaking, singing to the audience, and I was pouring my feelings into the song. This was me, and it felt great, and I wanted to let out an exhilirated laugh. This was the real me.

"And take me away, yeah," I sang, listening to the last few chords before the song ended, the magic fading away, leaving me staring blankly at the sea of people. I smiled contentedly and waved, a bit exhausted, and climbed down the stage.

"Thank you, Nakamura!" the guitarist shouted, appluading me, relieved, with the rest of the crowd, and I laughed, welcoming a few hand shakes, pats on the back, praise, congratulations, eventually making my way to the people that mattered most; the people who I loved.


	6. Chapter 6- The Eventful Holidays

The golden, crisp fall had melted into a slightly chilly winter in the blink of an eye, and suddenly, I was forced to dress in a candy cane dress with a holly wreath in my hair, singing American Christmas carols. Tamaki himself donned a puffy, crimson Santa Claus costume, white beard, cherry nose, and all, beaming proudly. The Hitachiins were dressed as mischievous elves, wearing identical green costumes, curved ear pieces, leggings, vests, and boots. Honey bounced around energetically, waddling while wearing a present costume, a bow perched on his fluffy blonde head; his tall cousin dressed as a reindeer. Kyoya, much to my amusement, grudgingly agreed to cosplay as a shepard, wearing a long, white robe and holding a curved cane. I couldn't help but smirk, coughing loudly into my fist. "Little Bo Peep."

He shot a glare my way, and I could telepathically sense the threats to use his family's authority that he was sending my away but I just laughed. He softened, so slightly that I had thought it was my imagination.

It was during one of these meetings when snow began to lightly patter the ground, speeding up, and rapidly turning the campus into a whirl of blinding white, coating the bare branches of the deciduous trees with powdered sugar.

Ouran Academy had transformed into a winter wonderland, icicles glittering from the rooftops, tiny white lights being strung on the paneled, floor-to-floor windows, holly bushes blooming in the garden, a Christmas tree in the dining hall, groups of professional singers in the dining hall, Tamaki pestering me about commoner Christmas traditions.

Pretty soon, I was sitting at my living room couch, watching the powdery white snow whoosh across the window pane, sipping a mug of hot chocolate, wearing a thick sweater. I relished the surge of warmth the drink gave me, reluctant to put it down and begin my homework.

There was a sharp rap on the door and I groaned, shaking my head and placing my mug on the coffee table, stretching my arms and standing, yawning widely as I sulked to the door, blinking. I opened it, not even looking at who was there before I sighed, "No, Tamaki, I'm not going to teach you how to bake-"

A wet clump of fluffy white snow was pelted in my face, clouding my vision with blinding white, and all I was conscious of was the cold, before my face began to heat with anger. I boiled, glaring maliciously into the faces of the mischievously grinning Hitachiin twins. "You bastards…"

A broad grin gradually spread across my face, but quickly transformed into a smirk as I slammed the door in their faces, yelling, "Just give me a minute!"

There was no way that I was going to let those shady twins beat me in a snowball fight. If a battle was what they wanted, then that's what they were going to get. I have this mentality where I simply can't lose, and snowball fights were my field of expertise.

I vaguely understood that high-schoolers were probably too old to do something childish like have a snowball fight, and I should have been doing my homework, but there's this certain magic about winter that makes us young again, a magic that makes us feel giddy, happy, and warm inside. And I honestly didn't care about anything else.

I tossed a thick red parka carelessly on, pulled on a pair of gloves and boots, raced out of the door to the waiting Host Club and scooped up handfuls of snow to use as my ammunition. I began to fire them aimlessly everywhere, laughing all the while, hair flying. I felt at bliss, despite the fact snowballs were being chucked at my face every five seconds, and undeniably…happy. Yes, I couldn't have been more content than I was at that moment, with my friends. Throwing snowballs.

Christmas was drawing closer, and although it wasn't an official holiday, plenty of people were celebrating, wearing the customary red and green, whistling carols as they walked, hands in pockets, past the decorated windows of the suburbs that I called home, vigorously searching for presents and purchasing holiday-ish wrapping paper. There was an indescribably festive mood in the air, and a frequently pursued topic was what everyone was doing during our winter holiday; the wealthy boasting of trips to sunny, beautiful places such as the Bahamas and Cancun, while Haruhi and I were forced to continue our normal lives, unable to afford much special. The Host Club had agreed to stay in Japan, however, and maybe I was grateful for their company. Just maybe.

On the last meeting of the year, the Host Club and I made plans for karaoke in a small, nearby bar on Christmas Eve, much to my surprise. Tamaki seemed quite enthusiastic, raving about how he would like to hear what commoners liked to sing, glancing at a mortified Haruhi all the while.

When the day arrived, I slept in, savoring the feeling of having nothing to do, and besides, it was about fifty degrees outside of my warm, thick blankets I had purchased at a clearance sale, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't reluctant to get up. At noon, I sleepily fried a few dumplings, and sat down to review for the upcoming midterms, something that I frequently chewed on my nails over. I wasn't the most intelligent, and tests weren't exactly my forte; unlike Haruhi, who was accepted into Ouran in the first place because she was an honor's student. Maybe I could ask her or Kyoya for tips on how to study, and ask if they would take the time to help me.

Okay, not Kyoya. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction just because I needed his help.

Throwing my coat over a sweatshirt, as it was quite chilly outside, I grabbed a cheap purse filled with spare change, and walked outside, sharply inhaling the cool, crisp air. I watched as my misty breath flooded the darkness of the evening in winter, hailed a cab, asking the driver to take me to the designated bar.

I breathed in the familiar cab smell of cigarette smoke and seat leather, watching contentedly as the world rushed by, watching the streetlights and decorations twinkle, listening to the muffled laughter of children building snowmen in the park.

Handing the driver a few bills, I hopped out of the cab, thanking him as the car screeched away, spraying a dirty mixture of snow and ice in all directions. I craned my head to see the crowded restaurant, where a few university students and older men were enjoying drinks. I heard the pulse of the music, felt the warmth radiating from my spot on the sidewalk.

By the time I had arrived, shivering, the Host Club was already waiting in the public karaoke room, where groups of teenagers had already gathered. A waiter was serving them assorted sodas, and everyone poring over the list of songs the machine had to offer.

I smiled and waved happily at the club, who had managed to save a spot on the edge of the beige couch. Hanging up my coat on one of the hooks that rested on the neon-painted walls, I greeted them, walking over to take a seat.

The room was occupied by a long, winding couch, glass coffee table, flat-screen monitor, and strobe lights bounced colorfully off of the already-bright neon walls.

"Hi, Nakamura-chan!" Tamaki beamed, fiddling aimlessly with the remote, while a couple of girls waited impatiently for him to finish so they could select their songs. "Tell me, how do you use this? I can never figure out commoner-"

I interrupted him before he could offend anyone but Haruhi and I, snatching it from his hands, instructing him that each song had a corresponding number, while he nodded in awe. I rolled my eyes at Haruhi, who cringed, and watched as an attendant yawned and turned the television on. Everyone in the room snapped to attention, and I felt a chill run up my spine, the sensation that I always felt when I was about to sing. About to break away, forget about every little worry, and fly.

One of the twins, probably Hikaru, smirked and shoved me forward, "What are you waiting for? Knock 'em dead."

I smiled nervously, and stepped forward first, and nodded to my fellow karaoke-ists, silently acknowledging them and informing them that I would like to go first. I nervously smiled, feeling their cold, harsh eyes on me, attempting to ignore their attention as I glanced at the list, nodded, picked up the microphone, and dialed the number for the song that I wanted to sing. I calmed down and took a few deep breaths as the familiar music rang in my ears, filling me to the brim with confidence as I smiled brightly and sang the lyrics that appeared accordingly on the screen.

When I began to sing, the mood in the air considerably lightened and became more festive, like the world outside of this little singing community outside of the bar. All that mattered was the lyrics, the music, the rhythm that coursed through veins. Maybe I let out a laugh; picturing a stack of colorfully-wrapped presents, the giant Christmas tree in all its glory, covered from tip to trunk with tiny white lights and delicate ornaments, in Ouran, a silver sled pulled by a team of flying reindeer.

"All I want for Christmas, is you…baby," I breathed, and I put the mic down on the glass coffee table, taking a quick bow as every smiled and applauded, before briskly walking back to the Host Club. I blushed slightly, relishing their happy, proud gazes, the praises, the pats on the back.

I was inexplicably glowing happy, and I was vaguely aware of the tall, beautiful girl in a purple tank top, despite the cold, Japanese weather, narrow her eyes slightly at me as she stood up to sing, tossing her long, red-brown tresses over her spaghetti-strapped shoulders. But, frankly, what the hell.

I had to hand it to Tamaki, he was a decent singer, and was bombarded by girls as he finished, and of course, he had to chat them up, ever the charming host. Honey-senpai was gifted in chanting nursery rhymes, resulting in many girlish squeals. The twins performed duets, gazing into each other's green-gold eyes all the while; in the end..

When the eight of us strolled out of the room, surrounded by our fellow sweaty teenagers as we pulled on our coats, chatting amiably, we were stopped by that red-haired girl and a couple of other teenagers.

"Hold it right there," the ginger spoke up, and it was with a haughty, I-really-don't-give-a-shit-about-you air that strongly reminded me of most of the girls that attended the club meetings.

I let out a huff of frustration. "What is it?"

Her face broke into a smile that I couldn't help but notice didn't reach those cold, cold eyes. "You're an amazing singer."

"Why, thank you," I replied, as politely as I possibly could when blocked by a posse of strange teenagers, glancing out of the corner of my eye for an escape route, while the club looked as uncomfortable as I felt. "Is that all you wanted to tell me? 'Cause it's getting kinda late-"

"Of course not," the girl to her left interrupted, striking a pose-which reminded me painfully of the blonde-haired narcissist at my side. "Your talent is merely potential, and you're never going to be able to go any farther if you keep hanging out with that crew!"

The girl who had just spoken had jet-black hair that was cut to her chin, electric-blue eyes, and was wearing a purple crop top that showed off her well-toned, curvaceous stomach, a matching miniskirt, fish net leggings, and combat boots. The boy had sandy-hued, spiky hair, green eyes that were a much lighter shade than mine, and had that stereotypical "bad-boy" appearance with a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and beat-up sneakers. Plus, he had a smirk to rival Kyoya's, except it was more like he was going to mug you and burn your house down for kicks. I marveled that they were able to wear clothing like that in the chilly weather, glancing down at my parka.

"Merely potential?" My eyebrows disappeared into my hair, and I glanced in exasperation at Haruhi, who was shaking her head. Who did this chick think she was?! "_That_ crew?"

"Yes, my dear!" the main girl trilled, and I swore I felt my cheek muscles twitch, just slightly. "What school do you go to, anyways?"

I couldn't help but feel violated as I awkwardly responded, "Ouran Academy, but I don't really see how that matters-"

"You don't understand?!" She looked scandalized, sending a sharp look at the duo behind her, who gasped exactly on cue, in sync. "Why, hon, Ouran's no place for someone like you!"

Kyoya coughed courteously into his fist, and was managing much better than I was as I opened my mouth, ready to give a hot-headed response. I beg your pardon, miss?"

She scoffed, gesturing at nowhere in particular, and, in a demanding sort of way, looked me straight in the eye with a forceful confidence. "You call what Ouran has an art program? That dreadful school? Those classes? That crowd? My dear, you are so much better off at where we, the prodigious musical group 'Activation Complete' hail from!"

"And that is?" These chaps were starting to irritate me already, and I could tell the Host Club members were getting frustrated, too, especially Tamaki. And besides, what psychos named their group 'Activation Complete', anyways?

"The Tokyo Academy of Arts!" she sang, with her little posse backing her up.

I shrugged, eager to leave. "Never heard of it. Now, what was it that you wanted to-"

"Dear, you must enroll in our program!" she explained impatiently, tapping her foot irritably. "And don't worry, prodigious children like you are sure to get a scholarship!"

I turned to Kyoya bewildered, and he transformed to I'm-smarter-and-richer-than you tone, lifting a finger and saying, "The TAA is a school renowned in its thorough study in visual arts, music, dance, acting, and would be an advisable choice for all aspiring-"

"Kyoya!" Tamaki exclaimed, sending him an urgent warning look, and it was clear that he was worried. What was up with him?

Were they afraid that I was going to abandon them for these snobby teens? Well, the scholarship offer sounded a bit tempting...an arts academy?

"What's your name?" I finally asked after moments of thoughtful silence. Tamaki gave me a horrifed look, but I merely ignored him; that strained look on his face was too painful for me to look at. Was I really willing to throw away my friends to fulfill my selfish ambitions?

"So glad you asked! My name is Midori, the gal here is Naoko, and this young man is Haru!" she answered, brimming with excitement. "So…thought about it yet? Are you really going to let these no-lifers drag you down?"

"Ayame," Kaoru (I think) spoke urgently, shaking my shoulder. "Don't listen to them! What're you doing?"

"I..I.." I faltered, and turned around, closing my eyes thoughtfully, allowing her words to wash over me in waves of doubt. "I'll…think about it…."

"Excellent, dearie!" I felt a small slip of rectangular firm paper being shoved at my hands, assumed by me to be a business card. What high-school student had a business card? "My phone number's on there, so give me a call when you're ready, 'kay? Thanks, and toodle-do!

I heard three sets of footsteps head to the door and I was finally given a peace of a mind; a moment where I could take a few deep breaths. I was determined not to look at the Host Club as I turned around and headed for the exit. "Good night, guys. I'll see you later."

Silent and in a dreamy daze, I waltzed out of the bar, creaking the door shut behind me, thinking of the art academy. Would they help me to success, the way the club I currently attended couldn't? Were they really right, was the Host Club dragging me down?

Of course they were, where was a club where a group of wealthy boys flirted shamelessly with desperate girls going to get me in life? Why did I even join that club in the first place? Sticking with them couldn't possibly get me a job as a singer, or a pianist, or a violinist….

I hailed a cab, and climbed inside, gazing outside the window at the rushing streets. The Tokyo Academy of Arts...

When I arrived home, and splashed a handful of cool water in my face to wash the exhaustion from my eyes, it felt like a sharp slap in the face, a wake-up call, as if I was awakening from some supernatural hypnosis. Who was I kidding? How could I even think about leaving the Host Club, after all that we had been through together? _Tamaki…I'm so sorry…._

How could I have let those thoughts cross my mind? The Host Club…they were more than friends to me. They had accepted me, even after they learned my secrets and knew how snappy and terrible I could sometimes be. What kind of fool was I to not notice that and firmly refuse when that whore Midori first suggested that I transfer? _Damn it, Ayame, you freakin' idiot…._

I felt like marching to the phone that very instant and calling up that 'Activation Complete' or whatever the hell it was, but I couldn't stand to argue with anyone else for another moment. I would call them tomorrow, and apologize to the club immediately.

For the first time in a while, I knew exactly what I had to do.

XXX

I held my house phone gingerly in my hands, and eyed the business card warily, glancing at it every now and then to dial the right number, before inhaling sharply and holding the receiver to my ear and waiting, waiting with dread for her to pick it up.

On the second ring, she picked up, and I could hear the slight, but rather suspicious relief and joy in her voice as she said, "Hello? Is this that talented girl calling?"

"My name is Ayame," I corrected, before pausing, lowering the phone slightly. "Not that it matters anyway."

"Whatever do you mean, hon?" She sounded slightly confused and indignant at the same time. "Of course-"

"I'm sorry to interfere but we've got a few messages for you," a cool, crisp, smug voice cut across sharply, silencing me as I gazed at the receiver at shock, which transformed almost immediately into anger. What the hell was it now?

"Aya-chan, please don't leave," Honey-senpai spoke, and I could hear the lip quiver in his voice, as if he was on the verge of tears. My heart nearly broke, gazing in surprise at the speaker, eyes widening.

"Yeah." I heard Mori-senpai's deep voice agree, and I couldn't help but faintly smile, cradling the phone in my arms.

"Ayame-chan, the club's no fun without you!" a chorus of voices exclaimed, some low, some high, some in between. "Please don't leave!"

"I..I," I stuttered, but their reminder gave me the confidence, and I smiled, settling my shoulders back, "I'm sorry, Midori-chan, but my home is in Ouran. I think your school sounds wonderful and your idea was great…but…I can't. I'm sorry..."

"I see," she hissed, and I could sense her defeat and anger. "They've corrupted you, haven't you? Made you lose sight on what was important, huh? Well, you missed your chance, because you had quite a surprise waiting for you!"

I heard a thundering click; she had hung up, and I smiled in relief, but realized that the Host Club was still on the other end of the line. I couldn't help but feel a trace of anger at their interference; I could have handled it myself.

"Ayame-chan-"

"Don't talk to me if you know what's good for you!" I snapped and slammed the receiver down, huffing impatiently as I shuffled upstairs, but couldn't quench the surge of affection I felt for the club. They cared enough to stop me…I could never meet people as loyal and forgiving as that ever again in my lifetime. I was an idiot to not have cherished that from the beginning.

XXX

3rd POV

A man with stringy, blonde hair that ended at his shoulder sat on a cardboard box in an abandoned warehouse, as if it were a throne, jeering, "Well?"

The girl with the reddish-brown hair visibly cringed, twirling her hair nervously. "Well, she didn't agree to-"

"Of course she didn't!" he snapped impatiently, standing up to pace around the dirt-covered linoleum floor. "Damn boys corrupted her."

Suddenly he grinned maniacally, and began to laugh. "Of course, I can wait. I've been patient long enough, and besides-"

He tapped his fingers together, like a small child clamoring for sweets, "Good things come to those who wait."

XXX

Ayame's POV

New Year's was quickly approaching. Christmas whirled by with laughter and joy, and some gift-giving on my part. Despite the cheery, lively atmosphere, the ice and snow sparkling prettily from the rooftops and windowsills, my mind constantly flashed back to that fateful karaoke night, and Midori's words haunted me. What had she meant when she said that there was a surprise waiting for me? Was there a double meaning to what she had said to me?

The answer was clear on the most recent stalker note, written on a slip of pink, wrinkled paper that had looked as if it had been torn off of a grocery flyer, in its usual red ink and spidery handwriting:

'I'll get you next time."

Were the three who claimed to be 'Activation Complete' somehow involved with my stalker? Were they even aware of it? Well, obviously they were, otherwise she wouldn't have dropped that hint about this mysterious "surprise". This arose new and disturbing inquiries that only confused me further, and I was silently panicking over what I was going to do. What were they even planning to do if they had managed to lure me to the music academy? Put me in a more convenient place to stalk? After all, Ouran Academy was, as they proclaimed on the glossy, colorful brochure featuring interviews from supposedly happy students, highly-protected with the latest, most reliable technology. I once even discovered a security camera and tapped wires in one of the cherub fountains, and one glaring down at me in the girls' lavatory. After that, I resolved to never use the bathrooms at Ouran unless it was absolutely necessary. Plus, a guard would constantly ask for my student ID, scowling, but I couldn't exactly blame him. I probably looked like some creepy child molester or something.

I couldn't keep the worried ache from reaching the pit of my stomach, an ache that resulted in a series of sleepless nights, arms sprawled on my bed sheets, staring fitfully at the ceiling. What was I supposed to do about it anyway? Tell my friends? No, I most certainly wasn't going to burden them with my problems, force the weight onto their shoulders. Besides, what was I going to tell them? "Oh, sorry to bother you, but I'm being stalked by a sadistic freak that murders birds. Just wanted to let you know."

Even in my mind, it sounded utterly ridiculous. So, I resolved to not say a word, to deal with my own problems. Me, myself, and I. Like the Ayame I used to be. The independent girl who could stand tall on her own, the girl who never needed anyone. But I had transformed more than I would have ever imagined possible. A shiver traveled up and down my spine. I would most certainly have agreed to attend the offered school, had I not joined the Host Club. Shit, I would've have given anything to abandon an elite academy filled with what I presumed to be rich brats for a group of musically-talented individuals. But I couldn't have been more wrong. I was wrong to judge the students at Ouran before I had actually gotten to know them. True, not everyone in the academy was exactly a saint, but maybe some of my fellow classmates weren't half-bad, if I actually had tried to give them a chance before dismissing them as shallow, airy, brainless, selfish, when it was actually I that was the ignorant one. Believing that they were beneath me, like somehow, I was the better person. But, no. I couldn't have been more wrong.

I wonder what would have happened if I had actually been stupid enough to agree, to attend The Tokyo Academy of Arts, and what my stalker was planning to do next. I felt as if we were playing a long, dragged-out chess game, where I was slowly, painfully losing, my inevitable checkmate looming nearer and nearer.

"New Year's!" Tamaki cheered over the phone, having a conference call with us Host Club members, sounding overly-enthused. "A time for commoner traditions!"

I swore I could hear a nearly inaudible sound of Haruhi sighing in exasperation, see her roll her eyes in frustration. Tamaki could be quite insufferable at times when it came to what he and the twins dubbed "commoner traditions". Give me a break.

Gritting my teeth and, despite the fact that this was merely a phone call, attempted a fake smile, and said as politely as I could, voice quavering slightly with the effort, "And what do you mean by that?

"The Otori family owns a penthouse apartment nearby, with a rooftop deck. The club is planning to watch the sunrise, have hot drinks, eat rice cakes, etc," Kyoya piped up in his stupid know-it-all voice. I could practically _hear_ him pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"You call that a 'commoner tradition'?" I sighed, mentally giving myself what I liked to call a "facepalm", knowing that they were ignorant as to how us "commoners" really lived, which was far from glamorous. They just couldn't understand that the whole world couldn't afford penthouse apartments with rooftop decks.

"Pack a bag for the night, and meet us at seven. I'll e-mail you the address. Don't be late." Kyoya replied, bluntly ignoring my perfectly fair question, and we bid each other farewell, said our see-you-laters, and hung up.

We were all sitting on deck chairs, sipping hot chocolate, methodically chewing our snacks, gazing at the inky-black sky. The view truly was breathtaking; the surrounding buildings were glowing with lights, icicles, and snow, although it was quite chilly. The sounds of nighttime city bustle; the honking of cars, crowds of chatting civilians, filled the winter air. I shivered and wrapped my parka more firmly around my torso to deflect the bitter wind that was gusting by. I rubbed my mitten-clad hands together for a bit more heat.

The penthouse apartment was sleek and modern, with high technology, such as an ultra-thin, flat-screen television, long, black couches, and a glass, most likely expensive, coffee table. There were three bedrooms, furnished with a similar theme; black, white, clear, and modern. Tinted windows stretched from ceiling to floor, giving a perfect view. The room was prim, perfect, neat as if it were cleaned just a few minutes ago. Typical for the Otori family.

The deck was adorned with artfully-placed potted poinsettias and holly bushes, an intricately-shaped metal balcony around the perimeter of the building, overlooking the city.

A couple of hours had passed, and I was sitting in a blank daze, shoving rice cake after rice cake into my bottomless pit of a stomach. Tamaki began to doze off, before snapping back awake with a start, nearly smacking an affronted Haruhi in the face, announcing in his usual overly-dramatic way, "No, we shall persevere through the cold of the night! We must not fail!"

I chose carefully to make no comment, hugging my knees to my chest, blowing a strand of inky-black flyaway hair out of my eyes, anticipating what was about to come.

Within moments, as expected, he had fallen asleep, golden head resting on the chocolate brunette's shoulder, his eyelashes gently fluttering as he snored.

For a moment, Haruhi looked as if she was going to shove him off, but then, her eyes softened the slightest degree, and she actually gave him an awkward pat on the head. She closed her weary eyes, yawning softly.

I secretly smiled, stifling a quiet giggle, and caught Kyoya's eye.

Eventually, everyone else had dozed off, unconsciously shivering slightly in the bitter cold. I felt alone for the first time in several months, gazing off into the distance, vaguely aware of the time rushing by, leaving me stuck in the past, my mind replaying memories that were best left untouched. I stood up, driven by some mysterious, unknown will, and walked to the edge of the rooftop, to the balcony. I leaned my elbows on it and gazed fondly at the view.

A light rose pink tinged the horizon, contrasting the midnight black with a tiny radiance, for the sunrise was approaching.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?"

I whirled towards the sound of the voice, mind taking a moment to comprehend what I saw; Kyoya was there, by my side, mimicking my casual, relaxed position.

Facing the skyline again, the pink layering with a pale orange, unsure of what to say or think, I shrugged. "Yeah."

"Is something on your mind?"

"No, not really," I lied, knowing that my voice sounded utterly unconvincing, devoid of any emotion or confidence. Besides, what could I tell him?

"Really?" Kyoya raised an eyebrow, and I winced, turning away as a slight blush rose on my cheeks, a light burning that I wished would stop. "I can tell, you know. You're usually so focused, and now you seem…distant."

"Distant, huh," I murmured to myself, uncomfortably aware of the awkwardness of the situation, pointing enthusiastically at the gradually rising sun, hastily changing the subject. "Ah, look! The sunrise! Make a wish!"

The sound of my own voice disgusted me, layer upon layer of false cheeriness and a fake smile, and I felt like anything but myself; like I was living my life as a useless, stupid lie.

I felt…strangely gratified that Kyoya had bothered to notice that something wasn't right, felt grateful that I was understood, but wanting to run away and hide from those observing eyes, eyes that were looking, looking deep inside of me, into my soul, like no one else could…..

"Make a wish," he muttered, appearing far away for a moment, as if he wasn't standing there right beside me.

"Mm-hm." I nodded, hoping that he was convinced for the time being, bangs bobbing up and down. I hesitated, before I tentatively asked, fearing for my recklessly stupid rashness, nervous to hear his response. "Kyoya…what are you gonna wish for?

I had always wondered what someone like Kyoya could possibly further want. Didn't he have it all? That sheer intelligence, his parents' fortune, that potential to do something amazing with that life ahead of him, the fact that he didn't have to risk spending his life as a street performer….what more could he want?

He bit his lip, and was quiet, determinedly avoiding my gaze and staring straight at his hands with a cold, hard look. Realizing that I was probably prying into his business, I quickly added, "You don't have to tell me. I'm sorry, that was too personal. I shouldn't have asked-"

"No," he cut me off, closing his eyes and sighing, a piteous pained look traced on his face. "I have to tell someone."

I could see it in his eyes, in his face, in his voice; he had opened up again, come out of his cold, nearly unyielding shell to talk to me, to confess to me the thing that he secretly desired. Was there any other greater gift than that? The sheer, honest-to-goodness truth?

"Look." He took a deep breath, before launching into explanation, "I'm the youngest of three brothers, and I'm always being compared to them, in every single way possible. My intelligence, my looks, my talent…and everyone says that I'll never inherit the company."

I listened intently, wide-eyed, doing my best to empathize with his dilemma, although I had never experienced the so-called joy of having siblings. How could I possibly understand what he was going through, the hurtful remarks lowering his self-esteem to the point where he had to hopelessly pray for a miracle, hide who he was inside?

"I've spent my whole entire life trying to prove them wrong. Every little thing, despite how little and insignificant it was. That's what I want. That's what I wish for. To be seen as more than the third Otori boy, the one that no one ever remembers."

I couldn't say anything for consolation, because that would only be fake, meaningless, settling for absentmindedly tapping the railing, strangely honored that he was willing to tell me something so personal. I uncomfortably spoke, trying to fill the empty, awkward silence with something that I thought would suffice, despite being completely, utterly useless. "Wow, Kyoya. I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be." He shrugged, and I could feel him slipping away, his posture straightening as he adjusted his glasses, smirking. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of my own problems."

And with that happy note, I watched helplessly as he sauntered back to his chair, but shook my head. I turned around and went back to my melancholic position of staring off into the distance, wrapped up in my own thoughts. As if nothing had happened.

The sun was a breathtaking red supernova, transforming the sky into a swirl of pink, orange, and gold, illuminating the clouds with a soft glow, a soft breeze caressing my face, the bitterness forgotten.

I felt like because of this, Kyoya and I were closer, like I understood another part of him. He had opened up to me, and now I knew what a rich person could want, that they didn't live perfect lives as I thought they did, They were only human, and could have their worries and cares, and weren't completely narcissistic and selfish. I realized how hard it must be for him; overshadowed by older brothers who were probably just as brilliant and talented as him, working hard to somehow, in any way, surpass them.

To be seen as an individual…how long had I taken that for granted? I was always known as the one and only Ayame Nakamura. Even though I never really had any friends, I was always seen as artsy and unique, no matter how any times I had those facts used against me. But Kyoya…he was desperately trying to be seen as…_Kyoya, _trying to be recognized as someone just as special as his brothers, even if it meant sacrificing who he actually he was,

I thought about my own wish, and smiled sadly and regretfully to myself.

_Here's to a year of safety and happiness with the Host Club. Emphasis on safety._

Because there were some things that you really just couldn't take for granted.


	7. Chapter 7- The Fitness Tests

I lamely brushed the bright red punching bag that was suspended from the ceiling with my fist, clad in the navy blue shorts and buttercup yellow shirt emblazoned with the Ouran crest that was my PE uniform.

Along with exams, physical strength was my weakness. I had absolutely no endurance whatsoever, zero muscles, close to no flexibility, and usually started sweating within the first five seconds of exercise. But I had somehow managed to scrap halfway-acceptable grades for my midterm, something that I was grateful for, so maybe this was my main concern.

"Come on, Nakamura!" Coach Tsujihara, a beefy man of a rather short, stout stature that had the build of a former rugby player and a neon orange whistle around his neck, barked, scowling fiercely. "You call that a punch? More force!"

I groaned and repeated the process; you would have though that at an expensive, elite academy like Ouran, there would at least be instructors that could boost your morals and not make you feel as if you were crap lying on the side of the road. Of course, I couldn't have been more wrong.

The coach gruffly sighed, exasperated, his wrinkled brow furrowing in frustration. "Alright, Kaori. Show her how it's done."

A stocky girl that was at least a foot taller than me with stringy brown hair and piggy black eyes stepped forward. I didn't really know her that well, but we were in a couple of the same classes.

I watched, horrified, as a porky arm lashed out, sending the poor punching bag flying several feet backwards, eliciting polite applause and hooting cheers from my peers. She grinned maliciously at me and licked her chapped, cracked lips, as if she would've liked nothing more to do the same to my unfortunate face. I backed away, eyeing that thick, strong fist warily, muttering dejectedly under my breath, "I'll do better next time."

I nearly collapsed as I flung the gilded doors of Music Room #3 open, twice as exhausted from lugging my textbook-filled schoolbag up seemingly endless flights of grand staircases. Honestly, you would have thought that there would be an elevator _somewhere_!

"I'm dead," I declared, flinging my bag onto the polished and waxed floors, plopping myself in a fat, crimson plush chair, unable to stand for much longer.

"What's wrong, Aya-chan?" Honey-senpai paused his vigorous strawberry-cake eating long enough to gaze at me with those adorable doe-like eyes.

"Gym class," I groaned, sinking further into the softness of the chair, feeling the soreness of my nonexistent muscles. "'Nough said."

"_Gym_ class is why you're like this?" A twin appeared by my side, giving me a dubious look.

I scowled, looking away and crossing my arms, dof my chair, flicking my arm, and observing me cautiously, "You're going to have to shape up."

"Gee, thanks," I replied sarcastically, narrowing my eyes at him. "But artists aren't supposed be athletic-"

"No," he interrupted, frowning slightly. "That's not what I meant. You have to be ready for the fitness tests-"

"HOLY SHIT, THERE'S A FITNESS TEST!" I shrieked, leaping to my feet, insides contorting with panic.

Great, just great; my two worst nightmares combined into a hell that I couldn't possibly get past. Fitness _and_ yet another test. Could this possibly get any worse?

"I would have thought that was obvious," Kyoya remarked smugly, adjusting his glasses. "In my opinion, it was quite clear on the brochure-"

"You think I _read_ the goddamn brochure?" I fumed, pacing frantically around the room, hands clasped behind my back, trembling slightly. What the hell was I going to do now?

I attempted to calm down, telling myself that I was being irrational; after all, fitness tests weren't _that_ important, right? However, I was pretty much hypervetilating, face scrunched in worry and anxiety. "So…what happens if I fail? I mean-"

"Well," Kyoya began carefully, before smirking and tapping a silver mechanical pencil on his chin. "There_ is_ a chance that your scholarship will be taken away."

"My scholarship?" I squeaked, momentarily frozen, and I felt as if I were being suffocated by a pair of invisible hands. Was that really necessary? But my scholarship...wasn't that everything I had as of now? My friends, a good school…was there really anything else that I could call mine?

I coughed politely into my fist, regained my voice, and smiled weakly, silently praying for mercy. "Umm…so what's in the test?"

Kaoru shrugged carelessly, as if my predicament was nothing. "You know, the usual. The mile, sit-ups, flexibility. Nothing special."

My heart panged with the sinking feeling of despair, and I sank on my knees, burying my face in my hands, all hope lost. "I'm screwed. It was nice knowing you all-"

A hand roughly grabbed my shoulder and yanked me to my feet, swaying unsteadily. Startled, I muttered a quick curse under my breath, hand resting protectively on my shoulder. "Ouch, Tamaki! What the hell was that for?"

The blonde narcissist ignored my perfectly acceptable question as he was off in drama-land, gazing off into the distance, dabbing his cerulean eyes with a silk handkerchief that seemed to have come from nowhere. He grasped my hands, tearfully exclaiming with that misguided, supposedly-helpful determination, "Don't worry, Ayame-chan! We'll make sure you pass that test!"

Kyoya sighed, exasperated, taking the cue and wheeling out the portable chalkboard, writing in painstakingly neat cursive: Operation Help Ayame Pass the Fitness Test.

Disgusted and not in the mood for Tamaki's antics, but curious to see what he had in mind, I yanked myself out of his grip, and crossed my arms, "And just how are you going to do _that_?"

XXX

"Seriously?" I stared in disbelief at the single-wheeled, dirt-covered, ugly old mustard yellow contraption. "A _wheelbarrow_? What the hell am I supposed to do with that?!"

I should have_ known_ better than to once again trust that idiot Tamaki and his 'operations'. What was I supposed to do _this _time?

"It's the classic wheelbarrow approach, senpai," Kaoru explained patiently, carefully dusting the soil out of the wheelbarrow and gingerly climbing inside, hugging his knees to his chest in order to fit. "We climb in, you push us around."

We were in the academy gardens, facing the maze of currently bare and spider-like hedges and musky gazebos, the chilly wind scattering the stray brown leaves from autumn across our path. The snow was mostly melted, tiny piles of ice lying here and there, but it was still winter, and still pretty chilly.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head and sighing in exasperation. "Are you guys insane or just really stupid? There's no way in_ hell_ I'm pushing you freaks around in a _wheelbarrow._"

Haruhi looked at me sympathetically; the lucky girl opted not to attend gym class, when I wasn't given a choice.

I turned around, preparing to leave; a hot drink inside sounding tempting right now.

"Your scholarship," Kyoya said in a slightly sing-song voice, accompanied by the idle scratches of a pencil on paper.

I scowled, reluctant to admit that he was right. School is more important than dignity.

Gritting my teeth, I hissed in response as a sort of half-hearted agreement, whipping off my worn mittens, stuffing them fiercely in my coat pocket. I winced as the bitter wind ran over my bare and vulnerable fingertips, and braced myself as I rested my hands on the cool metal, brick-red rust crumbling to the ground.

Doing my best to ignore the irritatingly triumphant smirk on Kyoya's face, I muttered under my breath, "Here goes nothing."

I took a deep breath, cursing myself for being convinced to do yet another stupid, painful thing, as I painstakingly shoved Kaoru the first half centimeter.

"You guys really are slave drivers," I accused as I shivered and rubbed my light pink and sore fingertips together for some warmth. Pushing insolent high school boys in a run-down wheelbarrow was just as tiring as I expected it to be, and I had a crapload of blisters to contend with.

Mori draped a thick, navy blue blanket over my shoulders, and I thanked him quietly, gratefully bundling it around my torso. "Thanks, senpai."

"Yeah," he murmured, allowing Honey to clamber jovially onto his shoulders. Fortunately, Mori, being the tallest of the club, wasn't able to fit in the wheelbarrow and I was spared another ten callouses. "No problem."

"Well." Tamaki clapped his hands delightedly, smiling optimistically, and saying with an encouraging, 'fatherly' tone. "Great improvement today, Ayame-chan-"

"Yeah." I interrupted resentfully, pushing my stringy bangs out of my eyes, glaring at him murderously, "If you count 'great improvement' as almost passing out at least a dozen times!"

"Alright, Ayame," Kyoya intervened matter-of-factly, which most certainly couldn't lighten my mood, jotting a note down on his clipboard. "In order to pass the fitness examination which, by the way, is in a couple of weeks, you'll have to exercise for at least an hour and a half a day-"

"Oh, give me a break. I've had enough for one day," I snapped, temper rather short, flinging off the blanket and hoisting my schoolbag onto my sore, exhausted shoulders. I grunted from the sheer weight of it, dreading the piles of homework that awaited me, ready to go home after eight hours of constant stress. I stormed out of the room for a theatrical effect, slamming the doors behind me with a loud bang.

Despite the fact that I knew that they meant well with their "wheelbarrow approach", that didn't mean that I was going to smile politely and tolerate it.

_What are you going to do with yourself, Nakamura?_

XXX

I repeatedly barraged an unfortunate, worn-down punching bag with punches and kicks, wincing with pain and discomfort as my fist struck the hard, rough surface, under the careful and professional eyes of Mori and Honey, champions in kendo and judo.

I ran laps around the track, beads of sweat trickling down my forehead despite the still-cold weather, toting a tray of hot coffees in my left hand. Definitely _not_ an easy feat.

Tamaki waved a yellow and blue cheerleader's pom-pom in one hand, while he shouted enthusiastically through a giant, dark green megaphone, jumping up and down ecstatically, "Go, Ayame! 2, 4, 6, 8, who do we appreciate? Ayame, Ayame, GO AYAME!"

I gritted my teeth, severely irritated and in the mood to punch a certain someone in the face just to shut him up. But I constantly told myself that this was for my own good, that I was scurrying around in cold weather carrying a tray of steaming hot drinks to maintain something that was dear to me: my friends, and the academy I had come to grow fond of, despite everything. And that's all that really mattered.

XXX

After fourteen days or so of extensive training and exercise, quite a few pulled muscles, involving extreme endurance that I wasn't even aware that I was capable of, the chilly, late January morning of the first test, the mile, arrived. I was jittery, nervous, antsy, unsure of whether I had prepared enough.

I jogged in place, barely listening to Tamaki's pep talk, absentmindedly nodding my head, "If you're feeling a bit tired, make sure to slow down. Alright? Remember, slow and steady wins the race, slow and steady wins the race…"

"I know, Tamaki," I sighed, not exactly in the mood to be advised using fable morals. "I'll do my best."

He smiled brightly at me, with such hope and confidence that it nearly broke my heart, and ruffled my hair, before jogging quickly to his place with the other boys.

A part of me was panicking; everything depended on this test, whether or not I could afford to continue to attend Ouran. What would I do if I failed? Work twice as hard to pay the pricey tuition? Go back to my local public school, where I was shunned and labeled as the artsy freak without any friends? I couldn't possibly do that; I felt as if my whole life was here, at Ouran. It felt unreal, that I belonged with the people I had before considered out of my league.

I took several deep, harsh breaths, performing a couple of jumping jacks to steady my nerves, scolded myself for acting so jumpy and worried; everything would be alright. I would pass. I would pass. Confidence; yes, lots of confidence…

The girls in my class were laughing and gossiping as usual, and I enviously watched as I was practically chewing my nails off with anxiety. Those lucky bitches really had nothing to worry about; if they failed, their rich, important daddies would just blackmail the school and everything would be fine and dandy.

A tall, strawberry blonde woman wearing gray sweats and a red t-shirt, put two fingers to her mouth and whistled loudly.

The idle chatter faded away, as everyone turned to look at the instructor, who was expectantly waiting, a single hand on her hip.

"Alright, everyone!" she shouted in the sort of voice that had the power and authority to make anyone listen. "As you all know, today begins the annual fitness examinations of Ouran Academy."

She paused as my peers began to politely applaud at her words, as if this were some type of reward. Damn these rich brats.

"The academy standards for all female second years in the mile: eight minutes and fifty-five seconds. Standards for the boys: eight minutes and thirty-five seconds. Am I clear?"

There were mumbles and nods of assent. Kaori flashed her impossibly long and sharp incisors in my direction, giving me a malicious thumbs-up. Her little clique of the toughest, strongest girls in the year snickered evilly, cracking their knuckles. I gave them a candy-coated smile and a good-natured wave. I'd rather die than give them the satisfaction.

"Half of you will run first, and the other half will run second. If you go over fifteen minutes, I assure you, there _will_ be consequences."

I gulped, determinedly avoiding the beady-eyed gaze of Coach Tsujihara, who was standing beside the female instructor. Damn it...what consequences? I wasn't sure that I wanted to find out.

Coincidentally, Tamaki, Kyoya, and I were placed in the same group, the second one, by alphabetical order, while Kaori and a couple of her goons were in the first.

There was a turf in the middle of the track, where Tamaki was sitting on a park bench, sipping from a water bottle, relaxed and very calm. I grinned weakly at him, taking the seat beside him, unconsciously swinging my legs from anxiety. He winked encouragingly at me, reaching down to give my pale, sweaty hand a small, reassuring squeeze. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I shrugged, uncomfortably aware of all of the rage glares that I was receiving from the girls in my gym class.

I watched blankly as the female teacher blew her whistle, sending the first group off at a steady trot around the track. Kaori dashed forward with her strong, robust legs, sending me a triumphant smirk as she pounded her enormous fist into her palm. I ignored her, fixing my eyes distastefully on a brunette girl who was examining her nail beds while jogging at the speed of a slug.

Kaori finished the mile, four laps around the wide track, in record time, speeding past the chalk finish line, at least a lap and a half ahead the other students, a slow moving pack that was buzzing with chatter. I swore I could feel a vein pulse in my temple.

She dusted her hands off on her shorts as if it was nothing grinning broadly in my direction. I rolled my eyes, sticking my tongue out at her like the immature bitch I was. But I had to admit that I was impressed.

Finally, the rest of the first group barely managed to cross the finish line before the coach blew her whistle, signaling for the second group to line up.

Heart pounding, I prepared myself, listening with anticipation for her whistle.

_You can do this, Nakamura._

The shrill sound pierced through the cold air. I jogged briskly, steadily, wanting to shut up that ticking sound in my restless mind. Eight minutes and fifty-seconds on the clock….

I watched as Kyoya nimbly darted past me with ease, triumphant smirk playing on the corners of his lips as he mumbled a quick greeting. I scowled, not wanting to give him too much satisfaction, slightly quickening my pace, feeling a cool rush of air brush my face, ruffle my hair. Confidence bloomed in my chest, filling me with a comforting sort of warmth, and I smiled, despite everything else and the strange looks that I was receiving. Maybe I _could_ do this.

By the time I had run three and a half laps, I wasn't so sure. Strands of sticky, sweaty hair stuck to my forehead, my face pink with burning heat, my legs aching from the effort of constantly running. I had lost count of how much time was remaining, and was pushing myself to limit, panting. But I refused to slow down.

The sun had miraculously emerged, but it left the dryness of thirst on my tongue, and I felt faintly dizzy, only conscious of a single, hard fact: I was going to pass this no matter what it took.

I was nearly finished with my fourth and final lap, a quarter of the students a good few paces ahead of me, the rest carelessly lagging behind. My eyes were completely fixated on the chalk finish line, completely ignoring everything else, as it drew closer and closer. Time seemed to move like syrup, and I was vaguely aware of Tamaki's cheering.

A burning pain erupted in my chest, and black spots danced before my eyes. Four yards, three yards, almost there-

I stumbled, white-hot agony flared in my head, forcing me to my collapse onto the ground, coughing violently, almost unable to breathe. I was slowly losing consciousness, wheezing, an invisible pair of hands clutching my throat.

My vision blurred, and I was vaguely aware of the shouts of panic, the words incoherent to my clouded mind, the water being tossed in my face, my last thought._ Crap…_

When I woke up, afternoon sunlight was trickling in through a dusty window. My head ached slightly, there was a hoarseness in my throat, and there was a sort of pain in my abdomen that I couldn't quite identify.

I was sitting propped up in something that I assumed to be a hospital bed, dressed in a white gown with pale blue polka dots. The walls around me were a blinding white, and there was a small bedside table beside me, a glass of water resting on top of it. I snatched it, hand shaking slightly, and downed it, savoring the coolness and purity of it.

"I see you're awake."

Startled, I blinked, confused, and turned to my right, towards the sound of the oddly familiar voice. And there was Kyoya, closing his small paperback novel and placing it at his feet.

"Yeah." I shrugged, despite the fact that I was puzzled beyond imagination, and that I had a million questions to ask him. What happened to me? I recalled collapsing, the horrifying sensation of not being able to breathe, coughing and having that burning agony…

"I'm sorry," he said, rather abruptly, determinedly avoiding my gaze and looking slightly nervous.

"Whatever for?" I asked, letting out a humorless laugh. "It was my own damn fault."

When he didn't reply, I hesitated, before tentatively asking in a small voice, afraid to know the answer, "So…what happened?"

He sounded truly apologetic, but matter-of-factly as he said, "Ayame, I'm sorry, but the doctor has concluded that you have asthma."

Well, that was certainly new. Asthma? Where the hell did that come from? It came as a sort of a shock, but why else would I have stopped breathing?

"So," I gulped, fidgeting nervously with my fingers. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"Well," Kyoya flipped through his clipboard before satisfied, tapping the paper with his pencil. "You'll have to order an inhaler, in case you happen to have another attack. The doctor says you'll have to rest in the infirmary for a few days before you can go back to attending classes. Coach Tsujihara has allowed you to skip the rest of the fitness examinations, and the Board of Education is thinking of switching your physical education class to study hall."

I slumped back, slightly relieved and amazed that Kyoya had managed to write that all down. Not meaning to be impolite in anyway, I asked, genuinely curious, "So…where are all the other guys? Why just you?"

"Today, the Host Club is busy with another event, and couldn't come and visit you. I'm here as a representative," he paused, and handed me an abnormally large gift basket consisting of a fluffy-looking stuffed bear, a box of very expensive-looking Swiss chocolates, and a bouquet of fresh roses. "This is from Tamaki, as a get-well gift."

"Wow," I said, gratified, as I ripped the heart-shaped box open and plopped one of the dark chocolates into my mouth. I closed my eyes, humming in satisfaction as the bitter-sweetness melted on my tongue. "Thanks. I really appreciate you coming here, Kyoya."

"Mm-hm." He nodded, and for a moment he looked as if he was about to smile in return. Instead, however, he stiffened considerably, the soft gaze transforming into that sly smirk. "Of course, if it were entirely up to me, I wouldn't be here at all."

I crossed my arms, sighing in exasperation as I cuddled my newly-acquired teddy bear, "You're such a bastard. Can't you say anything nice for once?"

He chuckled, choosing to not reply, filling my empty glass with water from a nearby sink, carefully arranging the roses inside. The aromatic fragrance of the flower permeated the rather stuffy air. I breathed in deeply and I softened, closing my eyes, the corner of my lips forming me into a small, reluctant smile.

He hesitated, and the wily, egoistic tone flickered, as he commented, "You look cute when you smile. You should do it more often."

I blinked, confused, taking a moment to comprehend what he just said. My face turned a violent shade of crimson, but, fortunately, I was spared the humility of replying when he swiftly exited my hospital room, closing the door with a soft creak. "Feel better soon."

I was taken aback by his bold statement. Kyoya used the words "you" and "cute" in the same sentence. I certainly hadn't expected that to happen. Damn, sometimes that guy could be so…hard to read.

I carefully cradled my soft teddy bear in my arms. Kyoya...he was definitely an interesting person, one that spiked my genuine curiosity. He could threaten me in so many different ways, but…he called me _cute_? It seemed so ridiculous that I wanted to burst out laughing. It was just so-so _uncharacteristic_ for him to give such blunt compliments, especially to someone, someone like _me_. What was going on in that confusing head of his?


	8. Chapter 8- The Stupid Fundraiser

I darted down the hallway, clutching a pile of textbooks to my chest, attempting to not strain my weak and newly-healed lungs, having just been released from the academy infirmary. I was a couple of minutes late for class and, trust me, the slip of paper in my fingertips wasn't going to lessen the number of detentions I was likely to receive. My heart was pounding as the chandeliers, freshly-waxed floors, and pink wallpaper rushed by-

_BAM!_

I collided into some unseen force, sending me sprawling onto the floor. I blinked to clear my vision, and was surprised to see a petite girl collecting a pile of binders and textbooks, a glossy map of what appeared to be Ouran clutched tightly in her fingers.

Her white-blonde hair was braided carefully down her back, and she had warm, chestnut brown eyes She was lightly-tanned and there was a smattering of caramel freckles across her nose and cheeks, giving her a friendly, good-natured look. She was crouched on the floor, her hair hanging in her eyes.

"I'm sorry!"

She spoke with a vague accent, something that sounded slightly American. I guiltily sprang to my feet, and quickly picked up several wooden pencils that had sprawled onto my floor, laughing sheepishly, "Don't be. It was entirely my fault."

I tilted my head to the side, neatly placing the writing utensils in a spring-green pencil case, "I've never seen you before. Are you new?"

She nodded, finishing carefully stacking the books in her overflowing arms, accepting the items I had recovered. "Hazel Greenley. I'm a foreign exchange student. It's really nice to meet you."

Hazel attempted to hold out a hand for me to shake, but her stack of books was on the edge of tipping over. I politely waved it away, not wanting another catastrophe, and smiled brightly. "Ayame Nakamura. Second year."

She laughed nervously, tossing her braid over her shoulder. "Um, sorry to bother you, Nakamura, but can you help me out? I'm...err...kinda lost. I'm in the first year class, biology-"

I jabbed my thumb in the direction she was currently heading in, before instructing, "Right down the hall. Fifth door on your left."

"Alright!" She nodded breathlessly, smiling at me gratefully. "Thanks so much! 'll see you around!"

Hazel darted forward, her shoes tapping rapidly on the floors, and I sighed, slowing down slightly as I too went to my first period class.

XXX

I poked my head into my additional study hall with the first years, carrying pages upon pages of algebra worksheets and a halfway finished history essay. Of course, as to be expected, no one was actually working. A group of third year girls gossiping idly, piles of science homework forgotten. A boy with glasses had his face pressed to a library book, snoring softly and drooling. I sighed, plucking a ballpoint pen out of my backpack. I settled my shoulders, preparing myself for agonizing hand cramps, and began scrawling on the loose-leaf paper, face contorted in concentration.

I was so immersed in my homework that when I felt a small tap on my shoulder, I just about screamed bloody murder. I scowled, turning around to glare fiercely at my assaulter, prepared to shout out a series of profanities and insults. Just as I was about to open my mouth, I stopped, blinking in surprise, before quickly composing myself. "Oh...Hazel-chan. Haha, I didn't realize that it wass you!"

"Oh, did I scare you? Sorry about that!" she laughed sheepishly. "I just noticed that you were here. Isn't this a first year study hall?"

Doing my best to slow my accelerated heartbeat, I forced a grin, carefully setting my pen down on the paper. "It's alright. And yes, it is, but I happen to be here as a result of...special circumstances."

I reached down and pulled my inhaler out of the back pocket of my paint-splattered backpack, allowing her a quick glance at it before neatly tucking it back in.

She quickly nodded in understanding, before she shook her head, smiling brightly. "These three tell me they know you!"

I followed her gaze to see a trio of familiar people standing awkwardly behind her, and I gave a weak smile, "Hey, guys. Hikaru, Kaoru, Haruhi."

"These nice boys were kind enough to show me around!" She absolutely beamed at them, radiant and glowing happy.

Kaoru smiled serenely and nodded, taking the seat next to me and pulling out a thick textbook, observing a map of the world. Hikaru looked away, resentful and surly, and without saying anything sat next to his twin. I shot him a repressive glance, sending him the message to quit acting like an ass. He gave me a stony glare in return, before shaking his head and taking out his homework. He seemed oddly preoccupied...what the hell was wrong with him?

I mouthed soundlessly at the brunette, "What the hell?"

Haruhi gave me a shrug, like she didn't have a clue what was going on in that mind of his, and her chocolate-brown eyes told me that whatever it was, I should definitely forget about it. I sighed, unhappy, but I obliged, sending a confused Hazel a quick and reassuring smile. What was going on?

XXX

"You've _got_ to be kidding me!" I loudly announced after listening for a full seven minutes to Tamaki''s over dramatic monologue, crossing my arms apprehensively.

Apparently, this was the genius idea for what the academy called a "fundraiser" for poor, starving children in Africa, although I politely suggested a food drive or a bake sale. Anything but _this_.

Valentine's Day was quickly approaching, and the academy decided to act festive by decorating the halls in the customary red and pink flimsy paper hearts, and banners emblazoned with phrases like "be mine" or "I will always love you".

Want to know what this crappy idea is? All of the boys in the school's names were written on a piece of paper, along with their year, locker number and combination. Then, the girls had to select one, and buy appropriate gifts for him every other day. No matter if he's some pyscho you'd only spoken two words to. And the worst part? The girl and the boy had to go to the Valentine's Day dance together, and the fee was about twenty dollars. That was most certainly unfair, and there were no exceptions. This was just another excuse for unnecessary drama and gossip, in the guise of some stupid fundraiser.

"Honestly," Kyoya replied matter-of-factly, scribbling idly on his clipboard, halfway immersed in whatever useless thing he was writing, "we're not. The Secret Admirer Fundraiser is an Ouran Academy tradition that goes back-"

"I don't care if it's a tradition!" I fumed, brandishing my partway finished math homework at him. "I'll say this once and only once, I'd rather-"

"Oh, have some spirit, Ayame-chan!" Tamaki called out heartily, winking. "It's the month of lovers!"

Resisting the urge to give him a good, hard smack in the face, I grumbled, "What's that supposed to mean? It doesn't mean I have to actually enjoy-"

"You mean you don't know?" Tamaki gasped theatrically, and rested a hand on his chest as if I haad stabbed him, before sighing, "Ayame-chan, my dear, Valentine's Day is the day for lovers all over the world! The fiery passion, expressed in gifts of the richest chocolate, affection-"

I stifled a snort as he visibly was gazing dreamily at an affronted Haruhi, before saying sarcastically, "Thanks for that explanation, Tamaki. I'll be sure to enjoy my Valentine's Day to the fullest extent."

His cerulean eyes sparkled, and he declared, hand resting on his heart. "Really? You mean that? Of course, it's no less than expected, being that it's not often that God can create a perfect being with a lovely voice such as I! The roses, the romance, the artistic beauty-"

I sighed, exchanging an exasperated look with Haruhi. This was going to be a long Valentine's Day.

XXX

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself as my fingers swirled cautiously through the slips of paper, creating a crinkling rustle. The box was covered with lacy doilies and pale pink tissue paper, and in the shape of a heart. It felt insane, and I wondered why I was doing this, and I took a deep breath, summoning up a sliver of courage, and plucked a slip of paper from the box, eager to just get this over with. My worst nightmare could be contained in those few words. I silently prayed that I wouldn't get saddled up with some completely psycho.

I quickly stepped to the side so the impatient girl who was hissing in my ear to hurry up could select her paper, briskly striding to my desk. I glanced nervously around, reassuring myself that no one was looking my way, and slowly unfolded the paper, crease by crease. I quickly glanced at my paper, before gasping and closing my eyes, praying that my eyes were playing tricks on me and that what I saw on that goddamn piece of paper was just an illusion. I breathed in and out to calm myself, before flashing my eyes open.

Tamaki sent me a thumbs up from the other side of the room, and I managed a weak smile, before casting my eyes quickly at what was currently my worst enemy.

I groaned, slumping in my chair and slapping my forehead, ignoring the stream of glares and repressive looks, and the squeals from the girl sitting next to me. Great, just great. Maybe this was worse than getting a total stranger. Do my problems in this stupid academy ever end? First a pastry war, then a creepy stalker, karaoke freaks, fitness tests, and now _this_?

_Hikaru Hitachiin_

XXX

I angrily pasted pink construction paper onto a red freshly-cut paper heart, scrawling in what in hoped to be unrecognizable handwriting in permanent marker, stuffing it into a white paper bag along with cheaply-bought chocolates. I could have been spending this time doing homework or something else useful, but _no_, I had to secretly give gifts to one of my close friends and lie about it. Something that I was absolutely crap at.

Now that I thought about it, being stuck with a psycho was a breeze compared to lying to him for two weeks and having to attend a dance with him, which most certainly would be awkward . At least I could avoid some random guy and it would be considered completely natural...but how was I supposed to avoid Hikaru for that long without him getting the least bit suspicious? And coupled with his strange and resentful behavior these days, I had no clue _what_ to think.

Fate was sure being a bitch.

I arrived at school a half an hour early the next day, and the hallways were nearly deserted, and echoed with each footstep. I relished the rare peace and quiet, glancing down at my slip of paper for directions, clutching the paper bag to my chest. I quietly entered the locker combination, and heard a soft creak as if swung open, a mess. I sighed, enduring the smell of what I presumed to be sweaty six-month-old gym socks. Honestly, what did I expect from him?

I hastily shoved the messy pile of books and jumble of papers to the side, tossing the "gift" unceremoniously inside, before shutting the door and walking away. I inhaled deeply, calming myself, and peered up at a clock nearby. Fifteen minutes until class began.

I slowly walked to the end of the hall, absorbed in my own selfish thoughts, about to open my own locker and retrieve several books and to deposit several textbooks inside. I was yawning widely when I heard a squeak and a soft rustle to my left.

I whipped my head around in the direction of the noise, and gawked when I discovered the source.

The familiar blonde smiled sheepishly, tucking an expensive box of chocolates inside the familiar locker, and closing it carefully. "Hey, Nakamura-senpai. I guess you caught me."

I was speechless for a moment, a strange mixture of emotions I couldn't quite identify stirring inside of me. I heard a slight commotion down the hall, a crowd of students entering, laughing and talking. I plastered a smile onto my face. "Hi, Hazel-chan. I guess I know who Kyoya's secret admirer is now."

I forced a grin, ignoring the wave of heat that passed through my mind, repressed a strange urge to scream at the top of my lung. Why did everything just feel...wrong?

"He's one of your friends, isn't he?"

I quickly nodded, scolding myself for the feelings that arose inside of me. Why the hell was I acting this way?_ What are you thinking, Ayame?_

I swallowed awkwardly, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, and waving at her, quickly walking to my classroom, attempting to hide the fact that my face had turned the color not unlike a radish. I hastily said in a voice that was an octave higher than my own, "Well, see you around, Hazel-chan. Talk to you later."

"Um...yeah...same to you, senpai." I heard her say, sounding slightly confused, but my fists were clenching and I felt a sudden desire to strangle her. But why?

After a couple of more days, I just couldn't take it anymore. I was a nervous wreck. This secret admirer crap was just too much, and I couldn't fight down the worry for Hikaru. There was also a bubbling pit of anger in my stomach at the thought of Hazel purchasing gifts for Kyoya. And the fact that I couldn't dance made everything worse.

One day, I grabbed Kaoru's shoulder in a flurry of panic and worry, while Hikaru was preoccupied ordering his noontime meal from the cafeteria lady.

"Senpai," he hissed in my ear as I received some strange looks from the passerby sitting at the lunch tables. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Stop struggling!" I whispered harshly back, eyes frantically searching for the nearest confined space where I was certain we wouldn't be heard, and finally I had a destination- the janitor's closet. "I'll explain."

I glanced around to make sure no one was looking before thrusting him inside and closing the door, panting from the effort.

The closet was musky, dimly lit by a dusty lightbulb. There was a mop in a bucket of dirty water, and several other cleaning appliances and supply, and the air smelled strongly over lemon furniture polish.

He looked alarmed, though that was to be expected, his golden-green eyes wide with concern. "What is it, senpai?"

I managed to wheeze out, laying a hand firmly on his shoulder as he was eyeing the door as if contemplating escape; but it was true, I had sort of kidnapped him. "Kaoru...I have to talk to you."

"I figured as much, senpai," he replied, gently pushing me back and crossing his arms. "What is it?"

I took a deep breath, squeezing my eyes shut and wincing before blurting out in a rush of panicked words, "It's your brother. I'm his secret admirer. Hazel-chan is Kyoya's. He's been distant lately, and I have no clue why, and I know this sounds crazy, and I know I'm being irrational, but I'm really frustrated and worried and I have no clue what to do! You have to help me! I thought you'd know, being his brother and all. What's going on with him?"

I exhaled sharply, having blurted this all out in a single breath. His eyes widened and I could see the dawning comprehension in his face, before he sighed, running his hand through his copper-hued hair, "I know, senpai. And from what I can tell...well, look, I know this seems far-fetched, and won't make sense to you, but-"

I snapped impatiently, nervously twirling a strand of hair in my fingers, "Oh, spit it out already!"

"Hikaru likes Hazel."

I gaped, tilting my head to the side, sure that something was wrong with my ears and that I wasn't hearing correctly, "Wait, what?

"Hikaru likes Hazel," he repeated. "And I'm sure of it."

I managed to finally comprehend the full meaning of those simple three words and I regained my composure, his surly face and her lively smile burning permanently into my head. Who would I have guessed? "Well..what are we supposed to do about it?"

"Honestly, senpai?" he sighed, running his fingers through his spiky hair. "I don't have a clue."

I chose carefully not to say anything, only stare at my clunky red high-tops, carefully observing the doodles of flowers, of music notes, of birds and trees-

"Wait." A determined look suddenly crept onto his face, and there was a trace of a smirk on his lips. "You said that Hazel is Kyoya-senpai's secret admirer, right?"

"Um, yes?" I confirmed, slightly confused and wondering what he had in mind.

"And you're Hikaru's?"

"Last time I checked."

Kaoru's smirk widened maliciously, and I gulped, envisioning the gears of his devious mind twisting and turning. His golden-green eyes shone with hope as if he had been struck by inspiration. "Well, what if we switched-"

"I couldn't help but wonder what the two of you were doing in a janitor's closet," a familiar, irritating voice sounded from the doorway.

Kaoru's eyes widened in surprise as he turned to look at the source, a certain bespectacled, dark-haired bastard I knew. "Kyoya-senpai?"

I scowled, facing him and suddenly wishing I had a textbook, frying pan, or something else heavy to whack him with, clenching my fists, "Kyoya, why the hell are _you_ here?!"

He smirked, adjusting his glasses, and replying matter-of-factly, "I must say, you're 'whispers' are quite loud. I'd lower my voice if I were you."

I blushed a deep scarlet and stuttered incoherently in a strange mixture of embarrassment and anger. Before I found the words to say anything, he continued, "I couldn't help but listen in on your conversation-"

I managed to regain my voice as I angrily retorted, "There are a lot of things that you 'couldn't help'-"

Raising his voice to be heard over my rant, Kyoya added slyly, "And I couldn't help but overhear the fact that Hazel is indeed my secret admirer."

I grabbed the mop by the handle, sloshing soapy, dirty water all over the floor, and brandished it like a weapon at him. "You weren't supposed to hear _that_, you nosy bastard-"

Kyoya brushed a fleck of the mud-water off of his jacket in disgust, before continuing, eyeing the mop as if it were some contagious disease or a dirty tissue. "I was quite aware of it, Ayame. Just the day before, I took the time to examine the fingerprints.

"Fingerprints?" Kaoru questioned, dazed.

"Oh, of course, silly me!" I said sarcastically, banging the mop handle on the floor like a staff, grimacing as the murky droplets hit my face.

"And I heard about the drama with Hikaru. I believe I can be of assistance. Where were we?" He gingerly pried the mop out of my tight grip and carefully plopped it back into the bucket.

I stuck my tongue at him, and gave him a shove towards the door. "In case you haven't heard, you're not included in this 'we'. Get the hell-"

Kyoya, that two-faced bastard, ignored me and politely turned to Kaoru. "I believe that you were about to say something about switching, Kaoru?"

I shot him a menacing glare of distaste, but he met my look with a sort of defiance, and I knew that he wouldn't give up. I sighed in defeat and threw my hands up, beckoning him further inside and shutting the door carefully closed behind him.

"I was about to say that you should switch partners, Ayame-senpai." He nodded in my direction, shooting me a meaningful look.

I blinked as I registered his words, staring blankly at the dusty wall behind him, "Wait...switch partners...are you trying to tell me 'I have to dance with this bastard?"

His words and the plot that he appeared to find amusing became clear to me as I shrieked, not even attempting to keep my voice down. Great, just great, yet another thing to add on my list of reasons why I was having the worst Valentine's Day of all time.

Kyoya pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose, appearing to be very amused and satisfied, which did absolutely nothing to lighten my mood. "My dancing skills aren't so bad, if I do say so myself."

"That's not what I mean," I fumed, turning away and resting my forehead against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut, a thousand mixed thoughts running a million miles per hour in my head. "Dancing with you..."

It seemed like a nightmare, incredibly embarrassing, and I started to blush just thinking about it. Was I willing to get caught up in a tangled scheme of romance, the sort of thing that I did my best to avoid; it just was a source of unnecessary drama. But if for a friend...? I wasn't sure whether my selfishness stretched to that extent. Was I willing to do this for Hikaru?

I growled softly, torn, and I heard Kyoya smugly say, "You know, I do wonder why you two decided to have this conversation without me. It's not like you could carry out that plan without my agreement."

"There wasn't much _deciding_ on my part," Kaoru muttered resentfully under his breath.

I defiantly turned around, snapping out of it glaring intensely at the still-smirking insolent bastard. "Wait, I haven't agreed to this yet, either! What makes you think you can just decide something like this on your own?"

He ignored me, quickly averting his eyes and smiled pleasantly at Kaoru, whipping out his notebook and holding a pen at the ready "I think it's an excellent idea, Kaoru. This way-"

I was frustrated, and I had to resist the urge to splash the bucket of disgusting water in his face, "Shut the hell up! There's no way-"

"Ayame." Kaoru looked at me, and I could see his eyes conveying a sort of honest sadness. He wanted me to help his brother. What kind of a friend would I be if I couldn't do that much? Isn't that what the meaning of being friends was?

I sighed, finally giving in, albeit reluctantly, "Fine...but only for you! And we never speak of this again. Do you hear that? NEVER."

He sent me a grateful look that almost broke my heard, and rested a hand on my shoulder. "Thanks, senpai. I really appreciate it-"

"Don't. I swear, I'm going to murder you when this shit is over," I interrupted, throwing his hand off, not willing to believe that I was willing to do something so incredibly and utterly stupid for something that I had once thought silly. Friendship.

I stalked out of the closet, in an unbearable bad mood that received 'what-the-hell-' looks from the innocent passerby, having the strange urge to kick a wall and just scream at the world. I was still shocked at how far I was willing to go for a friend, and could only hope that I didn't regret it, and pray that nothing went wrong.

Which was always wishful thinking.

XXX

I frowned at my reflection in the dusty mirror in my bathroom. When I nervously revealed to Hikaru that I was his secret admirer, he shrugged and in a flat voice told me that he'd pick me up at seven and lend me one of his mother's designs. I honestly wasn't sure what to expect. It was pale pink with ruffles on the top, a silver belt around the waist, and a skirt that reached slightly below my knee. I brushed out my hair so it at least looked glossy, and more presentable than usual. The dress was a bit tight in the middle, but it wasn't like I had another option. I quickly put on the simple heart necklace Tamaki gave me for Christmas, feeling the cool metal chain against my neck. I felt fake and uncomfortable and grimaced as I slipped into a pair of silver flats. I point blank refused to accept Hikaru's offer of wearing heels, since I'd probably permanently damage his feet if I did so. Which goes to show how much of a klutz I am.

I felt like I was a Barbie Doll, plastic and all, and the outfit obviously didn't fit me. I couldn't quench the waves of nervousness in my stomach. What if everything went entirely wrong? What if Kyoya and I were just making everything worse? Why was my heart doing flips and twists at the thought of this? Why was this such a big deal to me? Honestly, it was just a stupid teenage romance dilemma...why couldn't I squash the feelings of concern and those other messed-up feelings? What was wrong with me?

I took a shaky deep breath in an attempt to calm my nerves, wincing as I took a step in the borrowed shoes, waddling as gracefully as I could to the front door.

At my old public school, dances were an affair that could dismiss without much trouble. After all, it was basically a cheesy little gathering in the gymnasium where the girls sat in the corner and gossiped, batting their eyelashes at the sweaty boys who were playing basketball, oblivious to everything else. A cracked disco ball hung in the middle, and there was some pimply community college student as the "DJ". But I couldn't skip out on this one.

I sighed, opening the door and feeing the crisp, cool air on my face, waving to a sleek black limousine that momentarily slid over to the curb, sending a mixture of dirt and ice water scattering over the pavement. I hurried over, stumbling slightly in my uncomfortable shoes and wincing as I yanked the door open and climbed inside, sitting awkwardly next to a distant Hikaru. I glanced worriedly at him and folded my hands in my lap, muttering, "Hey."

He gave me a weak smile, fiddling with his crimson red tie. "Hi, senpai...you look nice."

I attempted a strained smile, but he was barely paying attention, golden-green eyes boring imaginary holes into the tinted glass. I shifted nervously in the seat, locking eyes briefly with Kaoru, who was sitting across from me. A blonde first year was giggling non-stop and clutching his arm, wearing a low-cut dress in shocking magenta and gold earrings that looked impossibly heavy. "Thanks. You too."

Kaoru nodded seriously to me, jutting his head slightly in the direction of his preoccupied twin. I bit my lip, awkwardly playing with my necklace and shifting nervously in my seat, and I gazed at my lap as if I could see something fascinating. My heart performing a tap-dance and racing with a strange feeling that I couldn't identify.

I tentatively poked Hikaru in the arm and he looked at me, slightly startled, and I hesitantly whispered, "Everything alright?"

"Yeah." He shrugged, as the limo deposited us in front of Ouran, which looked grand and imposing during the evening, lit up and decorated for the occasion. "I'm fine."

I raised an eyebrow, wanting to say more, but instead quickly took his proffered arm and walked briskly past about a dozen other couples. We awkwardly passed the intricate metal gates and headed down the stone path.

The entrances were thrown open, exposing golden, rosy light and the glittering crystal chandeliers. A man in a tuxedo smiled stiffly, obviously in discomfort at the prospect of having to deal with a group of rowdy teenagers for an evening. He gestured elegantly to an oak-paneled door down the long, brightly-illuminated corridor.

The hallway was soon filled with echoing footsteps and idle chatter as the girls gushed over each other's outfits, flirting with their partners. A couple of first-years I recognized shot jealous looks in my direction, eyes flickering to my preoccupied date. I winced, feeling suddenly self-conscious as I used my free hand to fiddle nervously with my necklace.

The ballroom was incredibly large, an elegant marble balcony occupying a side of the canvernous space, a quartet set up in a corner, playing soft, soothing music, wearing the customary black. A long buffet table with countless silver dishes and glass bowls of beverages, and several two-person tables decorated with fine white cloths and vases of delicate pink roses were pushed off to the side. The atmosphere was lively, relaxed, and I couldn't help but hum softly to myself.

"Ayame-chan!" I turned my head slightly, and smiled unconsciously in relief at the sight of the energetic blonde, who was practically dragging a petite, submissive brunette, his happy-go-lucky mood brightening my spirits.

"Hey, Tamaki." I gave him a half-hearted smile, standing on tiptoe to lightly ruffle his golden hair. "Good to see you."

He winked charmingly at me, looking stunning in a snow-white suit and deep plum bowtie, a fresh lavender tucked in his jacket pocket, before wiping a 'tear' away from a violet eye. "My darling daughter looks so beautiful! A blossoming-"

I sighed, watching out of the corner of my eye as Hikaru gave the blonde narcissist a solemn, acknowledging nod, before lightly tugging me away from the wildly-gesturing Tamaki.

"Hikaru," I began carefully, wanting to tell him everything, because he honestly deserved the truth of our plan probably would only serve to make matters worse. I'm really not the best sort of person to entrust deep, intricate secrets and plots with, especially when dealing with these complicated love triangle sort of things.

"Ayame-san," I heard an overly-formal voice say from my right, and I could hear the trace of a smirk. "Pleasure to see you tonight."

I forced a quick, polite smile at the smartly-dressed Kyoya, wearing a rose pink tie and looking crisp and like the rich little pansy he was in a dark grey suit. "You as well, Kyoya."

"I trust that things are going, ah, accordingly?" he smirked, onyx eyes flickering to a confused Hikaru for a moment. "Everything suited to your taste?"

"Perfectly fine." I struggled to conceal the grimace, eyes locked hard on his, saying with unintentional intensity. "The decorations are beautiful, aren't they?"

"Oh, everything's so gorgeous at Ouran! I love it here!"

I blinked, startled and confused, before I responded to the light tap on my shoulder, letting out a quick laugh, "Oh, Hazel-chan! You look...wow..."

The sunny blonde girl I had crashed into in the hallway looked indescribably dazzling in a sleeveless dark red dress in waves of silky, thick fabric that reached to her ankles. Her hair was twisted into an elegant knot at the nape of her neck, ruby earrings glistening. She wore two-inch stilettos, and her lips were coated with wine-red lipstick. She managed to make the look seem effortless and stunning, and my frilly pink dress seemed silly and boring in comparison. Well, not that it needed her help anyways.

"Thanks, senpai." She twirled a strand of blonde hair in her fingers. "You look great. Is that one of your mother's designs, Hikaru? It looks adorable."

He nodded slowly, and I could see his golden-green eyes widened as he gaped at her radiance. I felt a pang of the intangible feeling as I exchanged glances with Kyoya.

After several awkwardly long moments of silence, the bespectacled boy cleared his throat, "Well, I hope you two enjoy yourselves tonight. The food is absolutely delicious."

"Mm-hm." I let out a nervous, false laugh, shifting uncomfortably in my silver flats as I said. "I'm sure we will. Thanks, Kyoya."

"Bye, Ayame-senpai!" Hazel grinned at me and waved her fingertips at me as Kyoya guided her to the dance floor. The volume of the music had increased, and there was a wave of movement as countless couples began to waltz.

I awkwardly fidgeted, looking expectantly at a distant Hikaru, who gave me a brief smile. "Well...shall we?"

"Um...yeah, sure," I murmured in assent, taking his hand and placing a hand carefully on a broad shoulder, watching as Kyoya and Hazel twirled gracefully across the smooth, polished floors. I turned back to Hikaru, doubts amplifying, as we shuffled across the floor, loosing my balance very often and accidentally trodding on his feet.

I cringed, uncomfortably aware of my dress swishing across my mostly-bare legs, aware of my vulnerability and how exposed I felt. How would I feel if I found out that my friends were secretly arranging something to do with my crush without my knowledge?

"Hikaru," I whispered urgently, eyes wide with anticipation, and the only sound in my ear besides the soft music was the rush of my blood. "Look...I've been noticing that you seem different lately. We all have."

He didn't reply, only averting his eyes, gazing instead at the elaborate crystal chandelier that decorated the ceiling.

"You can talk to me about it if you want," I muttered frantically, feeling the sweat droplets on my palms, gripping his shoulder and looking wildly around. "I mean...you've been sort of quiet. Well, quieter than usual-"

He abruptly cut off my stuttering with a harsh, piercing look, an intense gaze that made my eyes flicker away. "If you have something to say, say it!"

I winced, before squeaking, "We've noticed that you've been different since Hazel. I mean, she dances into our lives and you're all..sullen. So Kaoru and I decided-"

"Wait, Kaoru?" he demanded, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "You guys were talking behind my back?!"

"I-I...it was for you! He loves you; he's your brother!" I retorted, suddenly filled with a burning anger that I couldn't stop. How stupid was I to involve myself in something I knew wouldn't work out! I should have known that this would have happened; that I would open my stupid potty-mouth. I shouldn't have freaking cared! I shouldn't have bothered with his stupid love life! If he was stupid enough to not realize that what we were doing was for his own good, then fine! Fine! Why did I even care?!

"You-you...why...ugh!" He shook his head, releasing my hands with a sharp jerk and running, running like the stupid, insolent, jerkface coward he was towards the opened doors, to the now-dark hallway, and I hated myself for feeling a twinge of guilt in my heart. Fine! He could be that way! Why did I have to care?

I groaned, ignoring the strange looks of the other couples, in the mood to kick a chair. Fists clenched and throat suddenly dry and hoarse, I angrily stalked to the punch table, forcefully ladling of the fruity liquid into a crystal glass and downing it. The sugar calmed me down, leaving me to simmer down and flop defeatedly into one of the matchbox chairs, cursing my stupid temper. Damn it...what was wrong with me?!

"Well, well, well." I heard a silky voice sneer in an all-too-familiar candy-coated way, my heart contracting, "Look who's the queen of broken hearts."

"Shut the hell up," I shot a glare at my offender, who was gazing at me in a simpering sort of way, looking unbearably slut-tish in a short, golden-sparkly dress. "I didn't ask for your opinion, Mayumi."

She smirked, tossing her honey-blonde hair, which was styled in a side-ponytail over her shoulder. "My, my, how cold of you Ayame-chan. I was merely making an observation. You do seem to be rather choosy lately; first Tamaki, and now Hikaru!"

I clenched my fists, face turning bright red in an effort to control my explosive temper, fingers trembling over the crystal glass. "Who the hell are _you_ to talk?"

"Brutish as usual, I'm afraid," she sighed in a mock-piteous way. "You're corrupting the club of the cutest boys in the school. Who's the next on your heartbreaking list, Ayame? Honey-senpai? Kyoya? What are you planning to do to this academy next, huh? You're such an arrogant bitch-"

"Whore." I stood up shakily, fists clenched in anger. "You don't know a goddamn thing about me!"

In a rush of I-don't-give-a-shit-ness and maniac anger, I reared back my fist, positioning myself for one of the disembowling punches Mori-senpai taught me.

But before I could make contact with her sneering face, an unseen force grabbed my wrist, torso pressed to my back.

I widened my eyes, thrashing slightly, but stopped and grimaced as a breath rustled my disheveled hair and ran a chill up and down my spine. "Calm down."

Kyoya smirked, before chiding smugly, "Ayame, what have you gotten yourself into now? Must you always upset everyone you meet?"

I flared, doing my best to elbow him in the face, hissing under my breath, "Where the hell is Hazel? What the hell are you doing? I've got this under control!"

"Leave it to me," he whispered back, ducking my elbow and firmly gripping my arm. "Anyways, Mayumi-san. I have to ask you to stop with these false accusations. Ayame is a respectable young woman and a member of our club, and I simply can't tolerate all of this nonsense about her. With all due respect, please mind your own business."

Kyoya shot her a fake, closed-eye smile, before hastily letting go of me and intertwining one of his hands in mine. He dragged me forcefully to the dance floor, ignoring my protests and my poisonous glares. He placed a hand awkwardly on my hip, and the corner of his lips curled upward in a tiny smirk, "I would say that you looked nice, but..."

I rolled my eyes, swaying uncomfortably to the high, screechy tones of the violin and low, melodious notes of the cello. "Thanks. I'm delighted."

I hesitated, before saying, "Alright...thanks for back there. I really appreciate it."

"Not a problem." He smirked, ignoring my grimace as I stepped on his foot. "I couldn't possibly allow her to spread false rumors about you. It would ruin our club reputation, and then where would we be?"

I sighed, before retorting, unable to hide the faint smile creeping on my traitorous lips. "You're such a bastard...but what happened with Hazel?"

A hint of a lemony smile tainted his voice. "It seems that you and I had the same idea. Hazel went running off to talk to our dear Hikaru. Worked out the way we planned, huh?"

"I'm definitely never doing this ever again," I grumbled, almost tripping over the hem of his dress pants. "Getting caught up in this romance-y mush. Worst mistake ever. We should never have tried to play matchmaker."

"Hn." He twirled me around, gracefully catching me in gravity-defying dip as I spun off course. "My mistake was actually dancing with you. I didn't think you were _this_ bad."

I scowled, feeling uncomfortably aware of his hand resting on my back and face looming inches away from mine, blushing fervently. "Asshole. Let go of me."

He smirked. "I was getting the impression that you were enjoying yourself."

"Shut up. In your dreams," I snapped, shoving him upward and regaining my clumsy balance, dusting off the skirt of my dress and crossing my arms defiantly, wishing that I could stop the rapid spread of heat on my cheeks.

"Hm. As if," Kyoya replied, prissily straightening his tie and averting his eyes. I awkwardly grinned at him for a few more long, tense moments, fidgeting nervously as the last notes of the music faded away and the light patter of applause filled the silence

"Um...thanks for the dance?" I said awkwardly, patting him stiffly on the shoulder. "And for everything else, I guess."

"Sure." He shrugged, hesitating before saying, "Where's the 'you bastard'? It's becoming a routine thing for us, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Fine. If you insist. Your levels of bastardness are so high I simply can't describe them. That good enough for you?"

"Yes. That's what was missing," Kyoya gave me a mock salute, before nodding in acknowledgement, "Good night, Ayame."

"Yeah," I muttered as he walked away, an unexpected warmth fluttering in my chest. "Good night."


	9. Chapter 9- A Discovery

I growled, tying a dusty, patched apron around my waist, a faded red bandanna around my hair, grabbing an old broom with frayed edges.

The snow had faded away, and the bitter cold was merely a memory, lost in the promise of fresh dewdrops and buds of small wildflowers. The grass was gradually turning green, the air was comfortably warm and cozy, and the undeniable feeling of spring was in the atmosphere.

Sunlight spilled through the dusty window panes, and the sky was a clear, crystal blue, a couple of puffy white clouds floating hazily in the distance. It was a blissful, gorgeous weekend afternoon, one of those lovely days, filled with freedom from the insolent jerks that currently dominated my life.

I sweept the accumulated dust into a pile at the edge of the floor of my room, squealing as I fished a corpse of a glassy-eyed garden rat from behind my bed, "Stupid spring cleaning...first time I have a break, and this is what I get!"

I wrinkled my nose to stifle a sneeze, ripping open a squeaky desk drawer and finding it to be filled with envelopes and crumpled bills, various pieces of paper accumulated over the years. I sighed, grabbing a handful of the papers and dumping it into a waste basket, coughing as I rubbed my hands on my paint-splattered jeans.

I peered over the drawer again, and as I reached into the compartment, my hand rapped against something solid. Frowning, I tossed the papers in my way aside, and sitting innocently in the drawer was a long cardboard box, duct tape wrapped around it.

A box? Curiosity overwhelmed my sense of caution as I carefully lifted it out of the drawer, the movement stirring up another cloud of dust. I hastily brushed the dust bunnies off of it, squinting to read the English in messy, loopy cursive: _Memoir._

A memoir? Whose memoir? What was it doing in my bedroom? Was it my father's? Or...or...-

I couldn't resist the temptation any longer, I ripped off of the cover with a screech, gazing quizzically at the box's contents.

It was scattered with messily-scrawled notes, fancy envelopes, a couple of small notebooks, and a single leatherbound book with corners of yellowing pages sticking out of the edges.

A mixture of welling emotions struck my heart: overwhelming curiosity, confusion, fear at what secrets this box might have contained for years and years. _Mom..._

I gulped, carefully blowing the dust off the leatherbound book, watching as a tiny spider crawled across its cover. I opened it with an ominous creak and squeezed my eyes shut.

I tentatively opened my eyes, and found myself staring wide-eyed at the yellow-ish, faded picture of a girl with blonde pigtails and vibrant green eyes, wearing a white blouse and a khaki skirt, grinning cheekily at the camera. She was standing in front of a large brick building, a bright pink, flower-patterned backpack slung over her shoulders.

My fingers traced across the page, almost hardly daring to believe it, squinting to read the tiny English print below the words: _Marianna, age five. First day of school!_

Marianna...Marianna...was that her name? My mom? Her first day of school?

I swallowed, and there was a picture of her again, hugging a thin, balding man that looked stiff and uncomfortable in his designer suit.

There was the same girl in a cute, striped bikini, splashing another little boy a couple of years younger than her, but with sandy hair and freckles, with a handful of ocean water, the golden sun setting in the horizon. She had a wide, toothy grin, her eye filled with life and energy. _Marianna and_ _Tommy. At the beach!_

Hand visibly shaking, I turned the page, and there was a crayon sketch of a stick figure and a simple, childish boat that was composed primarily of a triangle, a line, and a rough crescent a sail in vibrant colors of neon orange and rose pink. The color was smeared and the drawn smile seemed strained and weak, and I felt a strange pang in my heart.

There was another picture of my mother slightly older, wearing what appeared to be a cardboard constructed graduation cap messily painted magenta, beaming cheerfully as she held a piece of manila paper that proclaimed her a graduate of Ms. Myers' kindergarten glass.

A slip of thick, lined paper was taped unceremoniously next to the photo, and in wobbly, oversized letters said: _Marianna Rosalie Clambert._

I sat, kneeling on the dusty wooden floor of my bedroom, oblivious to the rest of the world, turning page after page in a mesmerized sort of daze, watching as_ her_ life rushed by in photos, in faded memories, long-forgotten in a sealed-up box. A girl with two braids grinning and riding on a pink bicycle in a leafy park filled with other bustling children. My mom's arm around a girl with an auburn braid and hazel eyes, looking perfectly content. A picture of her cuddling a cocker spaniel puppy.

Photos and photos later, the moments rushing by, lost in pages and pages. There was a picture of a teenager wearing a red and green plaid skirt and a button down white collared shirt, clutching a couple of textbooks to her well-defined chest.

And then, she was holding hands with a man with a well-manicured appearance, indescribable air of confidence and superiority. He was wearing a smug sort of smile, and was reasonably good-looking with short brown hair with bangs that hung over his forehead, and grey-blue eyes that had a malicious tint to them. I couldn't help but notice that my mother's face was solemn, the corners of her lips upturned in a faint smile.

Next, a white card with silver curly writing and decorative flowers in the corners cordially inviting someone to attend the marriage between Jonathan Wilson and Marianna Clambert, scheduled for January 7th, the theme "Winter Wonderland".

Marriage? I stared blankly at the invitation, the word running back and forth through my chaotic mind. To someone who clearly wasn't my father?

I pinched myself and winced, blinking to discover that this startling revelation was the truth. My mom had another husband?

There was a picture of her looking absolutely gorgeous in a long white, sleeveless dress with a white veil pressed lightly against her face, holding a bouquet of delicate white roses. The sight of sent a jolt through me.

The next couple of pages appeared to be violently torn out, and I ran my fingers in a blind daze along the jagged remainder of the faded paper, the information running through my mind at a dizzying speed. My mother's name was Marianna Clambert. She was married to Jonathan Wilson. And then what?

Finally, there was a page with a little boy waving and smiling, wearing blue overalls and a striped red shirt. He had a mop of untidy brown hair and green eyes with a slight dark tint to them: _Matthew Wilson._

Matthew Wilson, Matthew Wilson, Matthew Wilson...the two words churned through my head as I stared at the tiny cursive. Matthew Wilson, the boy with the green eyes, the boy who appeared in my mother's memoir, who had the same last name as her husband...

My brother. I had a brother.


	10. Chapter 10- The Results of Truth or Dare

I sat, shoulders rigid, watching with dread as the plastic two-liter bottle of soda ominously slowed down, skidding across the pink-tiled, freshly-waxed floors of Music Room #3. It spun and spun, before the bright crimson bottle cap pointed in my direction and a collective gasp filled with the room.

I sighed, throwing my hands up in the air in defeat, glaring at the snickering twins. "Alright, so it's me...what is it?"

Knowing that the sealer of my fate was the twins, of all people, I didn't have much hope for the future. I impatiently tapped my fingers on the ground, watching as the copper-heads whispered frantically and inaudibly to each other.

"Okay, that's perfect!" Hikaru laughed, giving his twin a pat on the back, and shooting me a malicious smirk. "Ready, senpai?"

"Well, this should be interesting," Kyoya remarked quietly to himself, haughtily adjusting his specs.

I did my best to ignore the sadistic bastard, sighing, "Fine, I'm ready for it." Squeezing my eyes shut, I let out a huff of frustration. "Oh God, I'm so dead."

Kaoru gave me a cheeky grin, saying in a cheerful sort of way, "Don't worry, senpai...it's not all that bad!"

"After all, all you have to do is join the cheerleading squad," they two finished in unison, before laughing at the incredulous look at my face.

"Whoa, whoa, there's no way in hell I'm going to do that!" I protested indignantly, shuddering at the thought of flaunting a bright blue miniskirt and chanting enthusiastically with the bratty blondes of Ouran. "This is a really funny joke and all, but-"

"A dare is a dare, senpai," Hikaru said in a singsong voice, raising an eyebrow and silently challenging me. "You only have to do it for the first tennis game of the season, and then we'll let you quit! Deal?

"And besides." Kyoya smirked, jotting something down on his clipboard. "I'm on the tennis team, so of course I'd love to see your darling face in the crowd of our guests cheering me on. It would be...delightful."

I stuck my tongue out at Kyoya. "Fine, but only 'cause I'm not a wimp. I'll do this, yeah, I'll be perfectly fine..."

"Oh, come on, Ayame-chan!" Tamaki wrapped what was supposed to be a comforting arm around my shoulder, gesturing wildly in the distance and flashing me a charming wink. "I'd think you'd look absolutely gorgeous in one of those lovely uniforms! Those cute little skirts, my darling daughter a cheerleader...oh, this is too much for your dear papa!"

Hikaru began to laugh, but stifled it with a cough, exchanging a knowing look with his brother. I shot them my deluxe death glare, before sighing, resting my forehead in my hands and at least attempting to banish the scarring mental images from my head.

Lesson of the day:

Never agree to play Truth or Dare with the twins.

Ever.

XXX

"Besides, is it even possible for me to get on the squad?" I whined as a giggling Tamaki dragged me to the Ouran gymnasium. "I'm about as coordinated as hell, and what about my asthma? Shouldn't that count for something? Honestly, we should rethink this...we're getting a little ahead of ourselves-"

"Come on, Ayame-chan!" Tamaki tugged on my shirt, an insane gleam in his cerulean eyes. "You'll be great! Think of it, you, standing on top of a pyramid of beautiful teenage girls! Wouldn't that be a stunning sight? Of course, not as a impossibly gorgeous as me. As I say, it's not always often that the universe creates as wonderful of a man as me, perfect inside and out!"

I shoved him off of my shoulder, sending him a scandalized look, "This is ridiculous! You tell the twins later that when this hell is over, I'm going to murder them"

I stormed into the gymnasium, where a group of about ten to fifteen girls stood, moving in sync and chanting something incoherent, wearing pale blue miniskirts and tank tops. A tall girl with honey-blonde hair and screamed into a bright pink megaphone, "No, no, no! Get it right this time! Akane, your stance is off, a little to the right! Alright, let's try that again!"

"Yes, Mayumi-chan," a girl with curly dark brown hair strangled into a ponytail muttered under her breath.

I froze in my tracks. Wait...Mayumi? The little whore with the plate of chocolate croissants? The one at that Valentine's Day party? That Mayumi? Damn it, those shady twins were getting more fun than they bargained for.

"Hey! What's that sewer rat doing here?" a petite white-blonde called out jeeringly, pom-poms clutched in her perfectly-manicured fingers.

The honey-blonde turned around, and upon laying eyes on my frozen figure, her pink-colored lips curled in a smirk, "Well, well. If it isn't Ayame, the little prodigy of the school. What brings someone like you here?"

I forced a grin, resting a hand on the back of my neck to conceal my clenched fist, "Well, Mayumi-chan, it's nice to see you again, too! I was just interested in joining the cheerleading squad." I flailed my arms uselessly around. "You know...go team!"

"You? You think we'd have-" she began to scoff, before she stopped, resting a hand on her chin and saying thoughtfully. "Actually, that's not a bad idea, hon...alright, you're in!"

In a last ditch effort, crossing my fingers behind my back and praying to whatever supernatural being was watching over me, I asked, "Um...but...shouldn't I have a try-out first? For all you know-"

"Nah...it's quite alright, sweetie." She gave me a simpering smile, but I could detect the pure ice in her eyes. "And just look at that, we were just looking for a little darling small enough to stand on top of our pyramid. You seem absolutely perfect for that, dear! A fun-sized shrimp!

"Shrimp?" I squeaked, biting my lip and running a series of curses and insults through my mind. "Top of the pyramid?

"That garbage dump?" a girl retorted, sharing a look with the cheerleader next to her. "Honestly, Mayumi-san? Are you sure-"

A poisonous look from Mayumi silenced her, "Oh, by the way, Hana-chan, would you get our dear Ayame-chan an extra uniform from the locker room? We have to be courteous to our new member...right girls?"

"Yes, Mayumi-chan," they muttered in unison, as if they were all hypnotized, Hana scurrying away to fetch a cheerleading uniform of doom. What was this, a boot camp?

"Great! Sweethearts, first cheer! The first game of the season is coming up, so we have to show everyone else that Ouran is the best! GO OCELOTS!"

The mascot of the academy never ceased to amaze me; an ocelot?

I stood awkwardly in place, fidgeting in place and attempting a weak grin at all of the girls who stared at me in ill-disguised envy and disgust. I silently cursed the stupid twins for forcing this on me.

A bundle of blue was tossed unceremoniously into my hands, along with instructions to change in the locker room and begin practice as soon as possible.

I shuffled awkwardly into the locker room, pushing aside the metal door and being hit in the face with the scent of designer perfume and deodorant, and resisted the urge to gag. I reluctantly changed into the uniform, wrinkling my nose.

It hung loosely and was several sizes too wide for my slender, short frame, and to my relief, the baggy skirt fell clearly to my knees. Just one game, Ayame, just one game...

How could I have gotten myself into this?

"Hey! Aiko! Get a ladder! There should be one in the storage room!" Mayumi ordered a skinny, freckled girl, who let out a squeak of assent and scurried through a blue door in the corner of the gym.

"A ladder?" I raised an eyebrow at her from my place on the floor, having attempted a series of complicated kicks that had left me a bit worse for wear.

"Yes, Ayame-chan," she sighed, before giving me an overly-patient look. "Do you have the attention span of a slug or something? Didn't I say that we needed a girl for the top of the pyramid? Since you're clearly incompetent, we'll get you ladder so you climb to the top. We wouldn't want you get to get hurt. Isn't that what I said, Keiko?"

"Yes, Mayumi-san."

"Thank you, dear. I'll be stationing myself at the bottom, so of course you can have complete and utter trust in me! Of course I've completely forgiven you for that tragic incident several months previously. No need to worry, dearie!" Mayumi said silkily, twirling a strand of honey-blonde hair around a pale finger.

I winced as I recalled the memory of the fated battle of the pastries. She just had to bring that back up, didn't she?

"Well, of course, I'm sure we'll do great at the tennis game! All you have to do is watch out, stand tall on those dreadfully clumsy legs of yours, and keep your fat ass from hitting the ground. Simple concept, right? Just don't screw up."

I gulped and cursed my bad luck for this, watching as Hana planted a rusty blue ladder on the gymnasium floor, and as the girls piled on top of each other like acrobats and formed a fairly-solid formation, Mayumi shooting me an icy sort of smile. "Good luck, sweetheart!"

I gave her a weak grin, bouncing on the tips of my toes as I started up the ladder, feeling an odd chill run up and down my spine as the structure trembled slightly. I let out a harsh breath, squeezed my eyes shut, and continued to climb, listening as the cheerleaders chanted something about the ocelots.

You know what? Fuck my life.

XXX

"Cheerleading is just the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of," I complained to Kyoya, a couple of pom-poms slung over my shoulder, wearing my baggy uniform and accompanying him to the tennis court. "I mean, it's not like a group of sluts wearing skirts and waving around these fuzzballs are going to encourage you in any way."

"It _is_ a trivial thing," Kyoya replied, carrying his tennis racket. "But it's rather funny seeing you do something like this."

I scowled and stuck my tongue out at him. "Gee thanks, Kyoya-bastard. Sure feel better. Good luck in the game, sweetheart."

"Why, thank you. Not that any word from someone like you's going to improve the levels of skill I utilize in this match. But I'm grateful for the effort, Ayame."

"God, you're insufferable."

"The feeling's mutual. And what happened to the 'good luck'? It was actually very encouraging."

"Bastard."

He gave me a smug look, a quick pat on the shoulder, and jogged briskly to a a group of boys smacking neon yellow-green balls against a wall as a warm-up.

The sky was a powder-blue, a couple of clouds floating hazily in the distance, the sun shining brightly. The air was light and pleasantly cool; the perfect weather to kick off another kickass tennis season.

I bounced on the balls of my feet, grinning weakly as I jogged over to the girls with perfect, straightened hair, encouraging myself by repeating in my head that after this, I could quit dragging my pathetic feet to the cheerleading squad, gnashing my teeth to prevent myself from wringing Mayumi's bitchy little neck every time she made a snide comment. I, with regret, almost preferred dealing with the squealing girls at the Host Club meeting rather than cheering with my arch-nemesis.

"Hey, Ayame-chan!" Mayumi gave me a snide smirk, coating her lips with another layer of strawberry lip gloss. "Ready? I know you'll do great...that is, if you can actually do a simple thing like climb the ladder, which you failed to demonstrate in practice a couple of days ago."

I hastily coughed into my fist, biting my lip to stop the chain of profanities and insults that wanted to escape my potty mouth. "My memory's as clear as ever, Mayumi-san. Ocelot might!"

She rolled her eyes, flipping her honey-blonde hair over her shoulders. "Whatever. Just don't screw up. Alright, ladies!"

Groups of boys and girls chattered as they filled the bleachers, waving blue and yellow flags embroidered with the Ouran emblem, cheering loudly while sipping cups of expensive coffee. The opposite stand was crowded with a horde of teenagers wearing red shirts and bandannas screamed wildly and waved banners.

I nervously took my position on the end of the front row, and narrowed my eyes at the sight of the twins snickering and snapping pictures with a fancy camera of my predicament. They teasingly grinned at me from the stands, Tamaki wiping his eyes with a silk handkerchief and blowing kisses in my direction. Honey gave me a cheerful smile and a wave from his spot on Mori's lap.

"GO OCELOTS!" Mayumi shouted into her megaphone with an overly-cheerful, enthusiastic voice, "GO OURAN!"

She proceeded to lead the squad in gravity defying kicks, spins, and flips, while I struggled to keep a winning, movie-star smile plastered to my face in an effort to mask my confusion. I did my best to imitate the movements by thrashing my legs wildly around and trying to not look like a complete and utter idiot, my efforts most likely failing hilariously. Kyoya, brandishing his tennis racket and whacking a tennis ball back to his opponent, smirked at me. I scowled at him for a moment, before a harsh look from the petite girl next to me put the forced grin back on my face.

"Up and down, our team don't mess around, because we're the best from the east to the west! And when our team is up, you're down. Go, OCELOTS!"

"Fifteen-love!" the referee shouted as Kyoya's opponent sent the ball spiraling over the fence, prompting a loud, ear-splitting cheer from the blue-and-yellow crowd.

"Stand up, it's time to shout! Come on fans, yell it out! Say it loud, say it proud! Go Ouran! Go! Go! Go!"

Tamaki beamed at me, clapping enthusiastically and waving his teddy bear through the air, a mortified Haruhi shrinking away from him. "MY AYAME-CHAN LOOKS SO BEAUTIFUL! GO OCELOTS!"

The stupid cheers continued, as Kyoya finished clobbering his opponent and the next singles match began, involving a thrilling, close game in which there were about three deuces and the opposing school won.

"Alright, ladies, pyramid time!" Mayumi ordered her squad, and they obediently shuffled into position, before grinning sleazily at me. "Time to shine, sweetheart."

I gulped, let out a squeak of assent, and watched in horror as the bitch snapped her fingers, and some errand boy of hers rushed to place the rusty squeaky ladder at the back of the pyramid the squad was steadily forming.

Kyoya looked at me, and gave me a simpering, false smile and a cheery thumbs-up. I grimaced, placing my feet onto the ladder and begun to slowly climb up, working hard to force the muscles in my face to contort into a grim smile. I strangled a scream of horror when the ladder trembled in the breeze, and continued to climb. I reached the top of the ladder, praying that I wouldn't fall straight on my ass, and placed my feet onto a couple of supportive hands. I let out a sigh of relief, watching the applauding crowd below me and eventually grinning. After this, it would be over! No more cheerleading squad for the rest of my life! And I could give the twins what they deserved-

Suddenly, I heard a couple of gasps, and felt the hands below me bend slightly, and the pyramid of girls collapsed in a heap. I felt suspended in time, wanting to scream at the top of my lungs, watching the crowd below me stare at us, completely dumbfounded. _Shit, shit, shit..._

I accepted that I wasn't going to get out of this one without a couple of broken bones, so I clenched my fists and closed my eyes, scrunching my face up._ Is the ground there yet? Is it? Damn, this is going to hurt..._

I let out a squeak as I felt a pair of arms circle tightly around my waist, and I let out a sigh, panting. I opened my eyes, about to thank whoever had saved my life in a godforsaken miracle, but scowled when I realized that it was a stupidly smirking Kyoya. I was about to cry out indignantly, forgetting that the entire crowd was there to watch me swear heatedly at him. However, he covered my mouth with his hand and hissed, "Unless you want to be humiliated for the rest of your life, act like we had this planned all along!"

I nodded slowly, removing his hand from my mouth, and screaming, "GO OCELOTS!"

The Ouran crowd erupted into earth-shaking cheers, and I, removing my fake smile for a moment, muttered to Kyoya, "You're so dead. And those damn twins, too."

"For what? Saving you from painfully smacking your face against the ground? To be honest, you should be on your knees and thanking me by now!"

"Over my dead body!"

XXX

I stormed back to the locker room, where the girls were angrily milling around, massaging sores and bruises, one shouting loudly, "Mayumi-chan! What the hell was that for?! You almost killed us!"

"I-I," she stuttered, once flawless honey-blonde hair disheveled, eyes welling up with tears. "It was an accident..."

"It was _so_ not!" Hana cried out angrily, retying her hair and limping towards her. "I saw you! What were you trying to do? Seriously, if it weren't for Ayame and Kyoya-senpai, we would have been humiliated for life! At least they made it look good!"

She sniffled, looking lost and pitiful, before she finally caught sight of me, jabbing a finger in my face. "What was that? You weren't supposed to get caught! You were supposed to be humiliated, and you were supposed to fall, and-and-":

I wanted to insult her to no end, because this was just such a great opportunity, but truth be told, I was sick of this. "Look, Mayumi-chan...I'm sorry for that pastry fight. I shouldn't have done that, and, um, can't we just forget that anything happened?"

Her lip quivered, and she ran out of the locker room sobbing hysterically, a mix of mascara and tears dripping down her face, "I hate you! You ruined my life!"

"Ah, guess I can't do anything about that." I grinned sheepishly at the other girls, who stared at the slamming door with disgust and gave me acknowledging pats on the back, before continuing to obey the unspoken laws that higher-up ladies like themselves must shun and ignore filthy commoners like me. The girls straightened their disheveled hair, reapplied make-up, gossiped, and accordingly made trips to the school infirmary on account of twisted ankles, bruises, and cuts.

But honestly, that was the way I liked it.


	11. Chapter 11- Awkward Topics

"My father and siblings have simply been dying to meet you girls," Kyoya remarked nonchalantly, from behind his newspaper, upper lip curled in a smirk.

"Hm?" I raised an eyebrow at him, nibbling on a gourmet cookie. "Your point being?"

"What is it, senpai?" Haruhi sighed, looking up from what appeared to be a very thick, large, leatherbound volume, eyes rimmed with dark circles. It must have been difficult to get in to the elite academy merely as an honor student, and the requirement was that she maintain a B+ average in order to keep her scholarship. The arts scholarship only demanded that I receive an A average in all music and art courses.

"My point is that they've invited you for dinner at one of our estates," he replied, placing the paper on his lap and adjusting his glasses. "My suggestion is that you come."

"What's in it for us?" I demanded, wiping a crumb from my mouth with the pale yellow cloth napkin Mori tossed in my direction. "What, do you think I'm really going to willingly meet your family? I bet they have poles up their asses. Like you. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised."

"I have to agree with senpai...I'm not too enthusiastic about meeting your folks," Haruhi said sheepishly, running her fingers through her unruly mop of dark brown hair.

"Well, if you insist," Kyoya sighed, whipping his clipboard out of his pocketbook and leafing through his papers. "I'll lower your debt, Haruhi, and Ayame...you can have a week off."

"Wait, really?" I squealed excitedly, standing up and almost tripping on the hem of my paint-splattered jeans. "You honestly mean that?"

"I'm a man of my word, Ayame...haven't you already figured that out?" Kyoya replied smugly.

I was envisioning a blissful seven days of paradise, seven days free from the psychotic creeps that dominated by miserable life. "Mm-hm..."

"Now, we should talk business," Kyoya said promptly, eyes scanning his papers as he tapped a ballpoint pen against his chin. "My father has scheduled March 23rd for the night of a dinner at our estate...would that be convenient for you ladies? I'm afraid it is the only open evening in his crowded schedule, so you'll have to-"

"Huh, so you were planning on dragging us there anyways?" I scowled at him, flopping back onto the squishy, comfortable armchair. "Bastard."

"I'm afraid I simply have to obey my father's commands. It's my duty as a son. And he's absolutely insistent on meeting you two."

"Lovely," I sighed, shaking my head. "Just lovely. What's your father like anyways?"

Kyoya smoothed out his dress pants, giving me a cheery smile and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Ah...I would advise that you not make him angry. I can assure you that it will not be pleasant. Just keep smiling and don't say anything stupid that might offend him. My family employs-"

"A private police force of over a hundred men," I finished, puffing out my cheeks. "I know, I know. Does that mean he's going to chase me to the edge of the country if I bitch off on him? Sensitive guy."

"Don't joke about that...you know what senpai's like," Haruhi remarked crabbily, watching as the twins ripped off yellowing pages of their textbooks and flew paper airplanes and footballs across the spacious music room.

"Haruhi's quite right, Ayame. Now, I guess we have a set date in mind? March 23rd? Shall we pick you ladies up at around 7:30? And you most certainly can't dress in commoner attire...I'll be sending a couple of my sister's stylists to assist you in preparations...the afternoon is fine...nothing too formal, I suppose...A simple black and white outfit will do for the occasion...is that convenient for you two?" Kyoya rattled off quickly, jotting down notes at top speed.

"Um...personal stylists?" I exchanged a worried glance with Haruhi, attempting to banish the life-scarring images from my mind. "Aren't you taking this a bit too far, Kyoya?"

"Hehe, yeah, senpai..." Haruhi let out a nervous laugh, flipping a page in her notebook.

"Oh no, I'm entirely serious. I'm sure my family will be charmed by you ladies. Thank you for your cooperation."

XXX

"Is he frickin' serious?!" I shouted over the phone with Haruhi, the dawning realization of the situation that I was going to dive headfirst into smacking me straight in the face as I shoved open the door to my apartment. "We're supposed to meet his father? Of all people? He made Kyoya's life hell from what I can tell, and what is he going to do to us? Lock us up in his basement for all of eternity? Damn it, damn it, damn it!"

"We made a deal with him," she sighed, sounding abnormally tired. "There's nothing we can do it about it now."

"I should just run away to the next town, or city, or country..."

"Neither of us have passports, senpai, and I think you're overreacting. It should be fine. Even his father is a terrible person, he's not going to lock us up with the Host Club watching, right?"

"Well, true...but maybe he's going to beat the crap out of me 'cause my dad slapped Kyoya. That's a pretty bad offense," I said worriedly, pacing around the kitchen.

"Your dad was drunk. You couldn't exactly do anything about that. And I doubt Kyoya told his father about that. He has some decency...maybe?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I totally feel better, Haruhi," I remarked sarcastically, rubbing my palm against my forehead. "See you tomorrow."

"See ya, senpai."

XXX

On the afternoon of March 23rd, as promised, brought a sleek black limo screeching to a halt on the pavement in front of my apartment. The group of boys hopped out, along with a thin, curvaceous blonde woman wearing a navy blue pantsuit. In her hand was a large, heavy briefcase, and a white bag was slung over her shoulder.

I sighed, closed the curtain, and leaned back on my couch. The doorbell rung moments later, and as I tiredly opened the front door, the pretty woman beamed at me. "Nakamura-chan, right? My name is Sora Fujisaki. I'm one of the Otori stylists."

"HI, SWEETHEART!" Tamaki gushed from behind the woman, waving enthusiastically. "YOU'LL LOOK ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS ONCE SORA-SAN IS THROUGH WITH YOU!"

Kyoya shot Tamaki a cold, silencing look, before turning to me, "We'll pick you up later. I'll have to ask you to listen to what Sora-san says, and please don't cause a fuss."

"Hn." I scowled at him, shuffling aside to allow the woman to delicately step inside of the small apartment. "I know, I know. I'll see you later, Kyoya."

"Have a good afternoon, Ayame." He gave me a simpering smile and a mock salute.

"Bastard," I retorted back just before I slammed the door, letting out a little angry huff.

Sora merely smiled sweetly. "Nice group of boys you have there, huh?"

"I wouldn't necessarily say_ that_," I grumbled, leading her into my small, crowded bedroom.

She pulled out the chair with the blue peeling paint that had been tucked inside of my desk, placing it right in front of her. "Please sit."

I reluctantly obliged, and wrinkled my nose in discomfort as she ran her long, elegant fingers through my tangled hair.

"So...how long have you known Kyoya-san?" she inquired in a conversational tone, slowly brushing out the knots in my dark tresses with a hair brush.

I shrugged, answering in a flat tone, "Just since the beginning of the school year. We're in the same class at the academy...that's about our only connection."

"Hm...I see." Sora nodded, experimentally twisting my hair into a bun, gently sticking a couple of small bobby pins in. "What do you think of him?"

I felt highly uncomfortable and violated, and wanted to open my mouth to make a retort about my privacy, but remembering Kyoya's reminder not to make a fuss, I sighed, "He's just a friend. A bit of a bastard at times. And irritating. And insufferable. God, I really hate him sometimes."

"He seems to think highly of you, you know," she remarked casually, spraying my hair with a pink can.

"I doubt it. He hates me," I scoffed impatiently, coughing and waving the spray away from my face. "Always threatening me, insulting me...it never ends. God knows why we ever became friends. I don't know if you could even consider us as 'friends'."

"How old are you, sweetheart? Seventeen?" She frowned, tying a tight black hairband around the bun.

"Yeah." I scowled, wanting to argue. "Why?"

"You can't evade love forever," she said slyly in a slightly singsong voice, humming softly.

"Whoa, whoa, what?!" I shrieked, feeling flustered and attempting to quash the blush that was rapidly spreading across my usually-pale cheeks. "What's with that?! Where did that come out all of a sudden?"

"Well, we _were_ talking about Kyoya-san..."

"Yeah, so? What's he gotta do with anything? And besides, we shouldn't talk about this...it's honestly none of your business. Can't we discuss something else? Politics? The weather has been very nice lately, you know...the sun is shining, there isn't a cloud in the sky-"

She let out a high, clear laugh, cutting off my embarrassed monologue. "You're quite funny, Ayame-chan. It's almost sweet. I remember when I was your age-"

"W-what's sweet?" I interrupted haughtily, glaring at the ceiling as she pulled a simple fold-out mirror from her briefcase and set it up in front of me. "What's funny?"

"You and Kyoya," she replied innocently, letting out a high-pitched giggle. "You're so clueless, Nakamura-chan!"

"Thank you very much! I'll call you anytime I need advice for my nonexistent love life," I retaliated heatedly, crossing my arms and puffing out my cheeks. _Honestly!_

"Alright, sweetheart. Whatever you say," she sighed contentedly, applying a coat of clear lip gloss. "Kyoya-san requested something simple for tonight. I believe he said black and white was fitting for the dinner?"

I nodded vigorously, secretly relieved that the subject had been changed to something I didn't have to dwell on. My love life, which was something I never really could bother to expand upon, was an awkward topic, especially if Kyoya, of all people, was mentioned in the same context. "Yep, that's it. What've you got in mind there?"

"Just something a little fancy, nothing more." She smiled cheerfully, pulling out a simple button-down white shirt, a designer-brand black cardigan, and a gray skirt. "Cute, huh?"

"Oh well...I guess something like that's tolerable." I grinned sheepishly in relief, squeezing my eyes shut as she applied a light layer of blush to my cheeks. "No mascara or anything like that?"

"Simple yet elegant is the Otori style," she said silkily, pushing a loose strand of dark hair from my face, and smiling at the mirror. "Alright, sweetie, you can get changed now. Try not to mess up your hair."

"Thank you, Sora-san," I nodded, watching her shut her make-up box and put it inside of her briefcase.

"No problem, Ayame-chan. You'll look stunning tonight." She winked charmingly, giving me a light pat on the shoulder. I forced a weak grin and politely walked her to the door.

"Goodbye, sweetheart!" Sora waved her fingers, and whipped out a cellphone, hailing a taxi to come and pick her up.

I grimaced as I climbed inside of the limousine, where the Host Club was already waiting, "Hey, guys."

"AYAME! You just look so cute!" Tamaki called out, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. He and the other boys had been strangled into gray suits with formal red ties. Kyoya looked stiff and uncomfortable as he gazed out of the window. My heart panged as I remembered the earlier, awkward conversation with the stylist, and I shook my head to clear my mind of the memory. I couldn't afford to think about what her words could mean now, which seemed trivial in comparison to the fact that I was going to meet the Kyoya's bastard father.

"Get the hell off me." I shoved his arm off of my shoulder and scowling at him.

"Aw, come on, darling!" he whined, cuddling an affronted to his chest and rubbing his face against her cheek. "You see, Haruhi still loves me!"

"Where the hell did that come from?" she protested indignantly, elbowing him roughly in the chest. Her chocolate brunette hair was slightly disheveled, and in what I assumed to be yet another one of Tamaki's attempts to force her to appear more feminine, her tie was fuchsia pink and patterned with roses.

I let out a forced, nervous giggle, "So…er...ah...Kyoya…what are the-"

"We're merely going to attend a dinner party at one of our estate," he automatically replied, picking up a newspaper that was resting on the floor of the limo. "And don't worry about anything else. I assure you that my family isn't what you most likely think it is. If you play nice, they might actually not act terribly hostile to you. So it's best to keep your abnormally large mouth shut and not speak unless you're spoken to. Hm?"

"I have an…abnormally large mouth?" I inquired vaguely, grabbing the can of iced coffee that Hikaru offered to me. "Well, that's kind of new...physically or figuratively?"

"Physically." Kyoya gave me a simpering, sweet smirk, adjusting his glasses, onyx eyes filled with what I could only interpret as a mock challenge. "I seek to pursue only the truth, Ayame."

"Well...you have an abormally large ego," I retorted lamely, taking a gulp of the cappuchino. "I think that's a valid argument. Everything that comes out of your mouth is bullcrap."

"The feeling is mutual, dear."

"Hn."

The limo abruptly turned right, pulling in front of what appeared to be, in the darkness, a marble fountain carved with those cliche, nude cherubs, jets of clear water protruding from their open mouths. A garden with various exotic flowers surrounded it.

Behind it all, however, in all of its luxurious splendor, was a mansion with elaborately-carved, Greek-style pillars adorning what I could only describe as an enormous porch, a large window spilling rosy light into the front yard, revealing a delicate crystal chandelier, and a balcony on the upper story.

I raised my eyebrows, impressed, before scowling at the smug, proud look on Kyoya's stupid face; the sort of look that made me want to punch the crap out of him.

A tall, elegant man with slicked-back hair that was wearing a black tuxedo, a napkin slung over a gloved hand, bowed solemnly to Kyoya. "Welcome, Otori-san. Your father awaits you and your companions in the dining rooms. Please enjoy your meal tonight."

"Thank you, Hayashi-san," he thanked formally, stepping inside of the mansion and beckoning us forward.

There was a sweeping staircase carpeted with velvet, the banister polished to a glorious shine, and he led us up the stairs, murmuring to a maid that scurried by. I couldn't help but gape wide-eyed at all of the splendor that passed by, from the oil paintings that hung on the wall, to the antique cabinet that stood outside of a pair of oak-paneled doors.

Kyoya looked sternly at Haruhi and I, and I could see how important this was to him as he warned, "Now, behave you two. I don't want anything negative to be put into my account."

"God, Kyoya," I grumbled, straightening my blouse and tucking my bangs behind my ear. "We know. Behave and don't act like a bitch. Like I usually do."

He nodded, satisfied, as he gently pushed open the door, revealing a dining room with wide, expansive windows that exposed the dark blue canvas that was the night sky.

A long dining table stretched from one room to another, covered with a navy blue tablecloth, the chairs made out a honey-colored wood. Tall candles that gave off the heavy aroma of some exotic coconut aroma sat in the middle of the table, their brass bases carved with spring flowers, a glass vase filled with yellow roses sitting beside them.

A tall man that greatly resembled Kyoya stepped forward. His face was angular and wrinkled, and his lips were in a thin, stern line that was the exact opposite of Kyoya's trademark smirk.

I winced, but forced a small smile, holding out a timid hand to the head of one of the most influential companies in Japan. "Hello, Otori-san...it's...wonderful to meet you."

He gave me a patronizing look, before lightly brushing hands with me, replying in a stiff, formal sort of way, "Likewise. You're Nakamura-san, correct? My son has told me so much about you."

"Er...he has?" I squeaked politely, biting the corner of my cheek. "Well, I-"

"And I believe I am correct in saying that you attend Ouran Academy because of your arts scholarship?" he interrupted in a greedily-curious sort of way. "You appear to be a talented young lady."

"Yes...haha," I laughed weakly, sending a desperate look at a concerned Haruhi.

She immediately stepped forward, taking the cue, and cleared her throat, saying in a confident, clear voice, "My name is Haruhi Fujioka, sir. It's an honor to make your acquaintance."

I let out an internal sigh of relief, exchanging a grateful look with her. There was something about Otori-san's penetrating gaze that made me feel like he was worming his way into my inner soul or something creepy like that, and my stomach squirmed at the thought of what he put his youngest son through. Something about him told me that he wouldn't hesitate to ship me out of the country in a cardboard box if he found out that my drunken father had laid a hand on Kyoya.

"The honor student, hm? Your grades are quite formidable. It's very impressive that you're prodigious enough to get accepted into Ouran Academy merely because of your academic aptitude."

"Thank you, sir," Haruhi responded politely, chocolate brown eyes confident and unwavering. I really admired her in situations as dangerous and unpredictable as these. She could always keep her cool, no matter what.

"Kyoya-kun! Your girlfriend is so cute!" a shrill, high-pitched voice cooed enthusiastically, and a tall, attractive woman with a noticeable string of pearls hung around her neck wrapped her arms around my irritated classmate. She wore a long, floor-length black dress, and a diamond sparkled from her ring finger. Her dark brown eyes were lively and cheerful.

I blushed a deep crimson, unable to find words to respond. Kyoya, however, spared me the trouble by coughing loudly into his fist, and gently pushing her off of him. "I beg your pardon, Fuyumi-chan? Ayame and I, by a very loose definition, are friends."

I turned my potential heated response into a hacking cough, ignoring the disapproving look that Otori-san was shooting me. The man gave me a wary, suspicious look, before striding arrogantly away to converse quickly with what appeared to be a waiter.

"Really? Oh, that's a shame, she's so adorable!" the woman bubbled excitedly, her raven hair bouncing energetically up and down. She quickly turned to me, eyes shining, and placed her hands on my shoulder. "Hi! It's really wonderful to meet you! My name's Fuyumi, and I'm little Kyoya's older sister! You're Nakamura, right?"

"Yes, Otori-san." I nodded slowly, forcing a small smile that probably looked like a grimace.

She playfully pinched my cheek. "Please don't call me that! It makes me feel like a fussy old lady! Just plain old Fuyumi-chan is alright. Oh, and who is this handsome young man?"

Haruhi cleared her throat, and held out her hand to the excitable woman. "Haruhi Fujioka. It's a pleasure to meet you, Fuyumi-san."

"Oh, you're that-"

"Well, well, well, little brother," a smooth, silky voice that concealed a smirk sounded from the doorway. "Are these your friends from school?"

"Good evening, Akito-san," Kyoya greeted stiffly, and the tall, good-looking man with disheveled hair that appeared natural and, if possible, made him look even cooler appeared. The man wore a black designer suit, a silver tie, and there was a mischievous glint to his eyes. "How are you?"

"Medical school is alright, Kyoya-kun. But I must say, it's an honor to meet your friends at last. Yuuichi-san couldn't make it here today, although he obviously was very disappointed. Your newly-acquired friends seem lovely."

He put on a charming smile that looked effortless, and glided forward, giving Kyoya a light nudge with his elbow, "Care to introduce me to your friends? I already know, Tamaki-kun, of course. And I believe I've seen the twins before. I've attended one of your mother's fashion shows. She's exquisitely talented. Tell Hitachin-san from me that I absolutely adore that-"

"Mori-senpai. Honey-senpai. And this is Haruhi Fujioka, the honors student I believe Father has told you about. The young lady is Ayame Nakamura. She attends Ouran because of her arts scholarship," Kyoya interrupted flatly, giving me a light tap on the shoulder.

Akito-san turned to me, and inclined his head in my direction, before leaning forward to brush his lips against my hand. "Delighted to make your acquaintance."

"Er...yeah...sure," I resisted the urge to gag, quickly pulling out his gentle grip, trying to cool the blush on my face. Honestly, this was too much for me. Crazy rich families and I just don't mix. "Hehe...nice to meet you, too."

"You play the violin, correct? It's a beautiful instrument. I play the cello myself. Perhaps we could play a duet sometime? I'd love to hear your talent," he smiled encouragingly, resting a hand on my shoulder.

I repressed my discomfort, edging nonchalantly away. Smiling forcibly and glaring straight at an awkwardly-gazing-off-into-the-distance Kyoya, I responded half-heartedly, "Yeah, Otori-san. That sounds like a great idea. How long have you been playing, by the way?"

"Approximately six years. It's more of a hobby now, though. It's a shame that I can't find more time to practice. Medical school is very taxing."

"Um...I'm sure it is." I fidgeted slightly, letting out a nervous laugh. Kyoya's father cleared his throat irritably, drawing our immediate attention as the idle chattering quickly died away.

"Thank you," he began haughtily, hands clamped tightly behind his back. "Tonight, we welcome our guests to the Otori Estate, and I must say what a pleasure it is for us to gather together and enjoy a friendly, warm meal."

Something about his tone signalled to me that this meal was most certainly not intended to be "friendly" or "warm". Perhaps it was the way that his cold, harsh onyx eyes lingered on me for a quick, fleeting moment. I gulped, applauding politely, before sitting down on one of the honey-colored chairs, tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ear.

Akito-san sat next to me, and placed a clean, manila napkin on his lap. I hurried to follow his example, attempting the straight posture that all of the club members minus Haruhi and I were demonstrating. I nervously stared at what seemed like millions of pieces of silverware, mouthing desperately at Haruhi, who merely shrugged.

"So, Nakamura-san," Otori-san inquired after requesting something from the waiter, who hurried and poured ice water inside of the glasses that gleamed besides our plates. "What is your preference when it comes to music?"

Tamaki and Fuyumi were chatting enthusiastically, digging into what was probably the first course of the dinner, a green salad that rested on a thin plate with golden designs on its border, with a tiny portion of citrus-champagne dressing. Or at least that's what Akito-san whispered in my ear.

The twins were conversing quietly with each other, and Kaoru laughed as he gave Honey-senpai an affectionate pat on the head. None of the them seemed to be nervous at all, despite the fact that they were eating dinner with one of the most powerful men in Japan. Damn these rich bastards.

"W-well," I stuttered, before coughing into my fist, and continuing in a louder, more confident voice, "I like the initially dark mood of the music by Kabalevsky. I prefer the Russian composers. I occasionally play contemporary music, but not very often. We should...err...cherish the beautiful music of the past."

"That's very interesting, Ayame-san." Otori-san nodded sagely, taking a sip out of the tall glass of wine a maid hastily handed to him, before scurrying out of the door. "I honestly prefer Baroque composers, but it's excellent to hear your views on music. How long have you been playing the violin? And I hear that you play the piano?"

I nodded quickly, before taking a most likely impolite gulp of the ice water, suddenly famished. "They're both just something that I sort of started at my old middle school. It's very...enjoyable, to say the least."

I eyed Akito-san, who took the outer-most fork, and began to eat carefully, glancing at me for a moment. I laughed nervously, before following his lead, slowly chewing the vegetables and savoring the tangy taste of the dressing. There was a small mushroom cap on the edge of the plate, which I cut delicately into minuscule pieces, avoiding direct eye contact with anyone.

"I'm sure it is, dear. I wonderful to meet someone who appreciates the fine art of music," he nodded approvingly, before turning curtly to Kyoya, who was sitting besides him. "Your friend has wonderful taste, Kyoya. It's not a surprise that you were drawn to her."

"Thank you, Father." My classmate nodded politely, delicately inserting a forkful of fresh greens into his mouth, quietly swallowing it.

I wasn't exactly sure whether to be flattered or insulted. The father of the most insufferable bastard in the world thought that I had "good taste". What the hell was that supposed to mean anyways?


	12. Chapter 12- A Case of Pedophilia

I yawned widely, absentmindedly, and as routine conducted, removing the stack of bills and envelopes from the mailbox, stepping inside of my apartment.

"Junk, junk, junk, pay...junk," I muttered sleepily, thrusting my schoolbag with a heavy thunk onto the ground, tossing a handful of the letters into the trash can. Nearly eight hours of almost falling sleep to the dull voices of my professors, because of the lack of rest I received last night as a result of cramming for an exam I most likely failed, didn't exactly improve my mood. I was ready to collapse on my hard, lumpy mattress, only a mountain of chores and homework keeping me from doing so.

I was about to topple over onto the couch to begin that a stupid math worksheet, but as I ruffled through the contents of the messiness that was my backpack, a flash of shimmery gold caught my eyes. Curiosity spiked, I picked up the small piece of square paper that was tucked between the crumpled pages of my science notebook, an eyebrow raised.

In swirly gold cursive, the piece of firm paper proclaimed: "We cordially invite you, Ayame Nakamura, to spend spring break at the Otori Ranch. Please RSVP by the next week. Thank you, and we hope that you can come!"

Seriously? An Otori _ranch_? And I was _invited_? This had to be some ridiculous joke. But maybe this was a seal of "approval" from Otori-san. Again, I wasn't sure if that was a positive or a negative thing.

XXX

"Hi, Haruhi." I smiled brightly at the brunette and tapped her on the shoulder as we both entered the Ouran campus. "What's up?"

She turned around, startled, before running her fingers through her disheveled hair. "Oh, good morning, senpai."

I pulled out the invitation from the pocket of my jeans, and handed it to her. "I found this in my backpack yesterday after school. What about you?"

Haruhi glanced it for a second, before giving it back to me dismissively. "Oh, that thing? Tamaki-senpai gave one to me yesterday. What, are you planning to go or something? I thought it looked alright."

"I don't really know whether I should go or not. It seems kinda too innocent. Like a death trap. Do you think that they're being serious about this?" I sighed, pushing my bangs out of my face.

"I think they are. You know, they don't seem like the sort of people to send an invitation as a joke. It probably wouldn't look good for them to play pranks on us." She shrugged, pulling an essay out of a navy blue binder and leafing through it.

"I guess you're right. And I don't think I should turn down an opportunity for a free vacation." I quickly glancing at the invitation one more time before thrusting back into my pocket." But I've never actually gone pony-riding or whatever the hell you do at a ranch before. I'm going to make myself look like an idiot."

Haruhi shrugged. "Neither have I. I guess they'll have instructors or something-"

"So you girls will be coming?" Kyoya quickened his pace until he was walking beside me, scribbling furiously on his clipboard. "I'm absolutely overjoyed! l'll be sending you the packing list soon, and you'll have to mail a letter to my father clearly stating that you are absolutely overjoyed to have been given such a wonderful opportunity, and that you would love to come. Make sure to be very nice. _Very nice_, Ayame."

I scowled darkly, swatting him on the shoulder. "I thought that I was very nice at the dinner, even if your brother was being a creep."

"I can't say that I disagree with that, Ayame," he answered curtly, smirking and adjusting his glasses. "But now, I'd just like to warn you, he'll be my only family member accompanying us on our vacation. The rest of my family are far too busy with my sister's wedding preparations."

My jaw dropped, and I groaned. "Seriously? Out of all of the people in your family, it's that wackjob? I'd almost rather spend a day at the beach alone with your bastard father. Can I withdraw my agreement now?"

"I apologize, dear. I'm afraid that if you do that, we're going to have some serious issues. My father does not take kindly to having his invitations so bluntly refused." Kyoya gave me a simpering smile, glasses flashing ominously, his pen poised delicately above his clipboard.

I gulped, before sighing in defeat. "Fine, fine, fine! I'll go to your stupid ranch."

As my classmate strutted away in obvious satisfaction, dress shoes clicking on the freshly-waxed floor, I widened my eyes fearfully and leaned towards Haruhi. "I told you that it was a death trap!"

XXX

I widened my eyes in amazement as the rolling hills, cozy wooden barn that was painted a rustic red, bright green forests, the darkish smudges that were grazing on a field of grass, and a large pale yellow house with faded blue curtains came into view. I pressed my face against the tinted-glass window, a wide smile spreading across my face. "Wow...that's pretty amazing."

"Isn't it?" Akito grinned amiably, waving his hand in the air. "When we were younger, Kyoya-kun and I would come here all the time for vacations...until, of course, he decided that he was too old for pony-riding."

"Pony-riding?" I snickered, shooting a sideways glance at a bored Kyoya.

"Oh, come on, Ayame-chan!" Tamaki trilled, violet eyes lively and excited. "Get into the spirit! One is never too old to go pony-riding!"

"YAY!" Honey-senpai chimed in, clapping his hands esctatically together, cuddling his stuffed bunny.

"PONIES! PONIES!" the twins chanted in unison, arms around each other's shoulders.

Kyoya sighed irritably, pushing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. "Yes, Ayame. I enjoyed riding ponies when I was younger. Happy?"

I giggled, covering my mouth with my hand, before smiling brightly at him. "Sorry, it's just hard to imagine."

He turned away, facing the window, watching as a patch of colorful wildflowers that were growing on the side of the road. I frowned, before Akito tapped me on my shoulder, "Never mind about ponies. I'll teach you how to ride a horse. There are a couple of lovely trails in the forest."

I gave him a sheepish grin, and a half-hearted thumbs up. "I can't wait, Akito-san. Thanks for everything. Coming with us, I mean. I bet you're really busy-"

"Oh no, not at all. It's not a problem. It's a pleasure spending time with Kyoya-kun's friends." He gave me an affectionate pat on the shoulder and smiled at his younger brother.

Kyoya's eyes narrowed, and he stared suspiciously at Akito-san, who was gesturing cheerfully and chatting freely with Tamaki and the twins. I couldn't help but notice this, and I tilted my head quizzically in his direction and mouthed, 'What's wrong?'

He merely shook his head, faked a small smile, before staring determinedly at his laptop, quickly typing something. I sighed, puffing out my cheeks, as the limousine pulled up on a rugged driveway in front of the barn. A cow mooed flatly, chewing on a handful of grass, a tall, lean brunette woman wearing a faded red bandanna in her messy hair giving it a pat on the head. Her face was slightly wrinkled, hair streaked with strands of gray, hazel eyes lively and cheerful.

Akito-kun hopped out of the limousine, the rest of us slowly following, and shook hands with the woman. "Izumi-san, it's lovely to see you again. How have you been?"

The woman squinted, before her face broke out in a joyful grin, and she wrapped her arms around him. "Akito-san! Wow, you've gotten so tall! I heard from your father that you've started going to medical school. How's that going for you, dear?"

"Perfectly fine. It's plenty of work, though, I'm afraid to say," Akito laughed softly, giving her a pat on the head. He gestured politely towards the woman. "Everyone, this is Izumi. She takes care of the ranch when we're not visiting."

"And I insist that your father gives me a pay raise. I didn't expect such a crowd," Izumi scolded, placing her hands on her bony hips. "I'm going to have to do lots of extra cooking tonight."

"Anything for your food, of course," Akito smiled. "How have the horses been doing?"

"Karin's been doing beautifully, if that's what you're trying to ask!" Izumi grinned cheekily at him, before continuing. "And Akina just gave birth a couple of weeks ago! It's been very exciting here, to say the least. It's good to see you again, Akito-san."

The sunlight directly hit my face in the early morning, and I groaned, rolling over on the mattress and pressing my face into my pillow. Haruhi snoozed on the other side of the room, snoring softly.

A sharp knock on the door drew my attention, and a voice called out, "Good morning, Ayame-chan. It's Akito-kun. Meet me at the stables in thirty minutes. The weather is absolutely gorgeous this morning."

"Um...okay," I replied groggily, pulling myself out of bed and rubbing my eyes. "Sure, I'll meet you there."

After his clacking footsteps disappeared down the hallway, I sighed, putting on the plaid shirt, jeans, and boots that were available at the ranch, tying my hair into a high ponytail. Scrawling a note for Haruhi, telling her where I'd gone, I opened the door to our room.

The house was neat and orderly, with wooden furniture and vases of flowers everywhere, robin egg's blue curtains hanging from the windows. It had a home-y sort of feel to it, and the view of the sprawling fields, dotted with grazing cows and horse, was exhilirating.

Wobbling around in my boots, I eventually arrived at the stables, filled with the odor of horse manure and hay. Akito sat on a stool, smiling fondly as he patted a small chestnut horse on the head, feeding her a couple of sugar cubes.

"Is that Karin?" I asked, leaning against the wooden wall.

"Yeah." He nodded. "She's a beauty, isn't she?"

"Uh-huh." I smiled at him, shifting from foot to foot.

"You ready to ride? There's a scenic trail in the forests around the ranch," Akito strolled to a tall horse that was a deep shade of copper, patting him on the head. "This is Haiku. He's one of the gentler horses here."

He opened the pen, and allowed the horse to step out, leading him with leather reins. "Here. Climb on. I won't let you get hurt, I promise.

I nervously approached the horse, uncomfortably aware of how Akito's hands were around my waist. "Ready, Ayame-chan? One, two, three!"

He placed me into the saddle, and made sure that I was snug inside. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just fine," I replied, slightly breathless. "But I'm not sure if I can actually-"

"No worries, I'll just lead you."

"Um, are you sure-"

"Positive."

The forests were lush and green, filled with tiny brooks, and a lake was visible through the foliage. Akito tugged on the reins, leading the horse and I down the crudely-formed trail. "So, tell me, Ayame-chan...how has Kyoya-kun been doing?"

The question caught me off guard, before I responded, shrugging. "Just moody. Not that that's any different."

"I haven't had to opportunity to really spend quality time with him in the last couple of years, but from what I remember of him...what's the word for it? Kyoya seems more...agreeable."

"Agreeable? Kyoya's anything but agreeable," I grumbled, feeling the jolt beneath my legs as the horse lumbered through the trail.

"I said more agreeable, not entirely agreeable." He turned around and gave me a lemony smile. "He's not a bad person, just pressured. There's been one thing on his mind since he was little."

"The company," I answered.

"Exactly. He never got the chance to enjoy himself growing up. It was always perfect grades, trying hard to please our father, kissing up to adults that were important clients to the company, charming everyone," he spoke quietly, pushing his dark hair out his face. "Kyoya's a tough kid, I know that. I think you should remind him every once in a while that he's not Superman. He should have fun, while he's still a kid."

"Kyoya's a nice guy, underneath all of that," I mused to myself, staring at the pale green leaves. "He just has trouble showing what he's really like."

"So you're saying that you know what he's really like?"

"Maybe I do...I don't even really know anymore," I admitted, gently patting the horse's mane. "Aren't you his older brother? I think you should know better than I do."

"Truthfully, we've never really spent much time together growing up," Akito gazed off into the distance. "I'm six years older than he is. I think that meeting Tamaki-san and joining this club of yours is good for him. He's made friends, and I appreciate that you're helping him. I just wish that I could understand him better."

"You're a good guy, Akito-san." I chanced a sheepish grin at him. "A decent brother, at least."

"Ha, that seems a lot, coming from you, Ayame-chan." He winked charmingly at me, slowly guiding the horse. "I feel like I know you already. So take care of Kyoya-kun for me, okay?"

"I'll do my best. He's a bit of a crazy guy."

"Even I know that much."

Maybe Akito wasn't that bad. A bit of a creep, but alright.

But wasn't every other psycho in my life kind of like that?

A couple of days later, finding a note tucked under my door that said to meet Akito at the airy, spacious library that doubled as the den, I walked slowly down the hallways, savoring the cool, perfect spring air. Two weeks with the Host Club and Kyoya's brother wasn't as terrifying of a prospect that I had anticipated it to be. The twins joked around, and chased each other around the field. Tamaki made sure to play the piano for us every single night, and forced us all to endeavor through complicated card and board games with him. Izumi's cooking was great, as Akito had promised, and the ranch was a comfortable, cozy place.

Smiling contentedly, I rounded around the hallway, and stepped in front of the library door. I pushed it open with a creak, and grinned at Akito, who was sitting calmly in a fat, comfortable chair, sipping a cup of green team.

"Ah, Ayame-chan. So nice of you to join us."

Kyoya was leafing through a tall bookcase, standing on top of a ladder. Adjusting his glasses, he selected a heavy leather volume, and gave me a smile, "Good morning, Ayame-chan. I would absolutely love to chat with you two, but I'm afraid that I was just heading out. Have a nice day."

He gave me a quick tap of acknowledgement on my shoulder, before walking slowly past me, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"Um...what's up with him?" I leaned against the chair, shooting him a puzzled look.

"I bet it's nothing, Ayame-chan." Akito shook his head, sighing. "Like you said, he's just being moody. Although, I do wish that we could figure out what's wrong."

"Erm...yeah."

"Alright, straight to business," Akito spoke in a brisk, clipped voice. "I haven't told the others yet, but father's hosting a large party for our family friends, business clients, and so on. And you and your friends are invited. So I was wondering, you seem like a perfectly nice girl and I have to admit, I'm quite fond of you, so...would you like to come with me?"

"Are you...asking me out?" I blinked in confusion, staring at him blankly.

"Put in another way, yes." He nodded, giving me a confident smile. "So, what do you say?"

"Um..."

For a moment I didn't know what to say, but there wasn't a valid reason why I should refuse his offer. He was only trying to be friendly, just like he had been the entire trip. And I owed him for that. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

I zipped up the back of my sleeveless, pale green dress, clipped my bangs back with a barette, and exited one of the many dressing room that were adjacent to the ballroom.

Searching for Akito and Kyoya's, I skimmed the hallway, muttering to myself, "109, 108, 107, 106!"

My hand was on the doorknob, about to pull it open, when a loud voice made me pause.

"-don't think that I don't know what you're trying to do."

_Kyoya._

"Oh? Tell me, little brother. What _am_ I trying to do?" Akito's smug voice could be heard, muffled, from behind the door.

"What? Do you really think that I'm so stupid as to not notice? You're just using her to make yourself feel better because your girlfriend- forgive me for being so blunt- dumped you."

"I don't see how my girlfriend is relevant-"

"You're toying with Ayame. Pretending to be someone you're not. Complimenting her, being nice to her. I know that it's all faked. As far as I'm concerned, you haven't touched a cello in five years. Why talk about duets at this point?"

"And what is she to you, little brother? Why should you care if I'm using her or not?"

There was only silence.

"Exactly. You have no good explanation. Now, as touching as it is, I'd like to ask you not to interfere with my personal affairs."

Unable to stand it much longer, I pushed open the door, stumbling into the dim light of the dressing room. Faking a cheery smile at the two boys, I squeaked, "Um...hi, guys."

"Ayame-chan, you're perfectly on time. Kyoya-kun and I were just finished getting ready. And I must say, you look absolutely stunning in that dress," Akito flashed me a quick smile, approaching me and looping his arm through mine.

The bastard...he was using me. He wanted me to act like his bitch so he could boost his self-esteem or something crazy like that. And now, I had to go to the stupid party with the asshole!

"Hello, Ayame," Kyoya nodded, who quickly adjusted his red tie before glancing at his watch. "The party's about to begin, so I suggest that we hurry up."

I gave him a helpless look, but he merely ignored me as he pushed the door open, giving us a mocking bow as he let us exit the room first.

_Dear God, help me._

"Ayame-chan, why don't we dance?" Akito declared as he stood up abruptly from our table, holding his hand out to me. The orchestra had struck up a light, cheerful tune, and crowds of couple were descending upon the polished, shiny dance floor.

I cringed, still processing the overheard conversation, before shaking my head, laughing nervously, "No, I don't really dance-"

"I insist." He gave me a charming smile, yanking me to my feet. "You'll be fine."

"Um, okay," I mumbled, although my thoughts were along the lines of 'bastard, bastard, bastard.'

A tall, curvaceous red-haired woman eyed me from the buffet table, drinking red wine from a glass. She was standing there alone, wearing a periwinkle blue dress with a slit thigh.

Akito's hand on my waist drew my attention back to him, and I gulped as he intertwined my fingers with his. "Alright, here we go."

I tried to imitate his movements, uncomfortably aware of the woman's patronizing gaze on me. Almost tripping over the hem of my dress as Akito spun me around, he tightened his grip on mine, lips upturned in a small smirk. The girl was probably his ex-girlfriend, and he was satisfied with the way that she was glaring at us. I gulped, trying to play innocent, "Akito-san...who's that girl over there?"

"Oh, her? Just an old...friend of mine. My ex-girlfriend, to be exact," he laughed bitterly. "Nothing that you should worrry about, Ayame-chan."

"But she's-" I began, before I felt a light tap on my arm.

The woman stood behind me, dark blue eyes narrowed dangerously, her gaze on mine. "So...you're a friend of Akito-kun's, huh? I don't believe I've seen you before."

"Um, I wouldn't say that. His younger brother is a classmate of mine, we both go to Ouran Academy. My name's Ayame." I held my hand out to her, laughing nervously.

She gave it a disgusted look, but managed to barely brush with with hers, as if I had some contagious disease or something. Typical.

"Ah, Akane, so nice of you to join us this evening," Akito said smoothly, raising an eyebrow. "I thought that you declined the invitation."

"Decline an invitation to an Otori party? Do you think that I have the nerve to do such a thing? Well, why don't I be nice and help this little girl out here. She appears to be struggling." Akane smirked, bowing mockingly towards Akito-kun. "May I have this dance? I hope that Ayame-san here won't mind."

"Oh no, of course not!" I replied, quickly, letting go of Akito quickly and backing away, slightly relieved. Rich psychos. "He's all yours, Akane-san!"

I dissolved rapidly into the crowd, breathing deeply, having a sudden desire for fresh air. Shoving past couples, I ran to the balcony. Gazing at the glimmering stars in the dark night sky, I leaned against the railing, sighing. What a night.

"Ayame, I have to tell you something."

I turned around, watching as Kyoya walked out of the crowded ballroom to join me. "What, that your creep of a brother was using me as a rebound to make his girlfriend that dumped his sorry ass feel jealous of me? Well, you're a tad bit late. I'm not stupid, you know."

"Funny, I thought otherwise."

"Not the time for wisecracks, bastard. But thanks for caring, anyways," I said grudgingly, glancing quickly at him.

"Caring? I just didn't want a case of pedophilia on the Otori family's hands. That wouldn't look good for our stellar reputation."

"Pedophilia? Is that the best excuse you can come up with? God, Kyoya, you're such a laugh." I grumbled, puffing out my cheeks. "Can't you just tell me you care and be done with it?"

I didn't know why I just wanted to hear that from him right now, but I did. I just wanted him to say something. I was exhausted, frustrated, and just needed some sort of encouragement. Even if it was from Kyoya.

"Fine...I cared enough to not want him to break your heart and use you. Happy, Ayame?"

"Break my heart? Ha, as if! Bastard."


	13. Chapter 13- Your Fault

In the cool, comforting darkness, I sat on the the rusty swings in the old, run-down park a couple blocks away from my apartment. It was one of those cloudy nights, where only a few glittering could be seen through the thick haze.

"Unbelievable sights, indescribable feeling," I sang quietly to myself, listening to the oddly-comforting creak of the swing.

Normal life had resumed after the ranch episode. Studying for finals consumed our already-busy high school lives. And, from what I heard, Hikaru and Hazel were planning their fifth date.

Closing my eyes and relishing the serenity of the evening, I was leaning my cheek against the cool metal chain when my peaceful feeling was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice. "Well, well, well, it's so nice to find you here, my dear."

Startled, I whipped my head around, shivers running up and down my spine. "Who's there? Who the hell are you?"

"Just what I'd expect from you, Ayame-san." A tall, thin man emerged from his hiding place, stringy blonde hair plastered to his face, eyes breathtakingly-green. "You won't even act the tiniest bit polite to your older brother?"

"Older brother?" I gasped, thinking of that photo album I'd discovered a couple of months ago. "You're-you're Matthew, aren't you? What are you doing here?"

I stood up shakily, backing away as he approached the swingset, eyes widened.

Realization hit me. "Wait...you're the creep that's been stalking me, aren't you? You-you-"

"Bingo." His laugh was chilling. "Good evening, my dear half-sister."

"So you're the son of that man...in the wedding picture. And my mom. You've been missing for years, haven't you? No one ever told me anything-"

"Ah, yes. So nice of you to mention our mother, the poor dearie," he jeered menacingly, face etched with malice, and he leaned forward towards me, breath tainted with the smell of cigarette smoke.

I looked around, no one was around. The streetlights were dim, the park isolated by a patch of forest.

"Your little boyfriends aren't here to protect you now, are they, you little slut?" He drew a knife out of his belt, laughter bubbling in his chest. "I've never seen a group of bigger idiots. You kids are all so stupid."

"Why are you after me?" I said as calmly as I could, even though I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs for help. But something told me that he wouldn't hesitate to use that knife if I so much made a peep for help.

"You see, my dear younger sister," he drawled, swinging the knife slowly in front of my face, and all I could do was listen. "My dear old dad...was a quite a bit older than the bitch. And it was natural that she felt absolutely nothing for him. She always told me about her dream to become an artist. Whined on and on about it. But, by a cruel twist of fate, she was doomed to remain some rich bastard's wife for all of eternity. What a tragedy. And so, our lovely heroine sneaks away with me, her little son, to run away to Japan, where she had already recevied an arts scholarship. My, my, quite the rebellious wife, no?"

I gulped and nodded quickly, my heart racing. I didn't even want to imagine what he was planning to do with me. Damn, I was such an idiot...I should have told someone, anyone.

"Attends an art academy, studies fucking abstract art," Matthew ticked off lazily, rolling his eyes, and I can't help notice how they're so much like mine. "Ah, and then she happens to stumble upon this young, handsome sculptor. His name escapes me at this very moment...ah, Hayate Nakamura. Begins dating him, he conveniently teachers her Japanese, blah blah blah. And you, the little bitch standing before me, were born, when I was but ten years old."

"And you hate me for that?" I asked resentfully, wanting to punch him in the face.

"Perhaps you don't care for my feelings." He tickled my chin, and ran his hand up and down my face, grinning sadistically. "Did you ever consider that I actually enjoyed living in California? That I enjoyed playing baseball with my ridiculously good-looking, smart, talented, rich-as-hell father? That I hated the old man that my dear mother fell in love with? That I hated you? You're such a dense, stupid, little girl.

"You were such a perfect, pretty little girl. Everyone loved you. You were my mother's little princess. But I hated you. Hated you so much that it nearly drove me to insanity," my brother seethed, teasing his knife across my neck, sending a prickle of pain through my body. "Every single thing about you. Your laugh. Your smile. Your talent. The fact that you were the daughter of my mother and that bastard. Every. FUCKING. THING. You shouldn't exist. My mother should never have left California. Nothing that happened should have actually happened."

"W-what do you want from me?" I trembled, watching a smirk upturn his cracked lips.

"Want from you? Revenge." He began to laugh maniacally, nearly doubling over as he punched me in the face, sending me flying back into the hard, rough concrete of the playground.

Black spots dancing before my vision, I attempted to woozily sit up, hands in front of my face, but he merely continued to laugh, kicking me in the stomach. It was pain, pain beyond belief, and the world swam dizzily before me. _God, please, just kill me..._

I felt a flash of pain and heard a sickening crack as he pinned me to the ground, bending my arm. I shook, desperately pleading, "Please...please, just stop."

"Stop existing, dearie." Matthew gave me a mocking smile, and I don't think I've hated anyone more than I hated him right now. Not Kyoya, not even Mayumi. I hated him so much. Hated him for scaring me the past few months. Hated him for being here. Hated him for breathing. Hated him for hurting me this much.

_A teenage boy with short hair in a pageboy haircut poked at a dandelion with a stick, green eyes wide and hollow. It was a sticky, hot, summer afternoon, one where everyone wondered how anyone could exist in such humid temperatures._

_The pretty blonde woman flung open the door, wiping sweat from her brow. A giggling little girl followed her, clinging to the woman's legs. "Matt! Take care of your sister for just a couple of minutes!"_

_"Okay, mom," he said quietly, forcing a smile as he beckoned to his half-sister, who let out a bubbling laugh and almost tumbled down the porch steps as she walked cutely towards him._

_He picked her up, and whirled her around, placing her onto the ground. Thinking for a second, he grinned insanely, before taking a cheap silver lighter out of his pocket, waving it tantilizingly at the little girl._

_Matthew flicked it, igniting a tiny orange-ish flame that mesmerized the naive, young girl. "Hey, Aya-chan...isn't it pretty? It's called fire."_

_"Pretty! Pretty!" she agreed enthusiastically, green eyes shining._

_"Why don't you touch it?" A malicious grin filled his face, and he leaned forward. The girl stuck out a chubby hand, inhaling in excitement as her fingertips neared the flame._

_"Matthew! What are you doing to Ayame-chan?" the childrens' mother opened the door to the house, widening her eyes at the sight of the maniac boy exposing the flame to her childish daughter._

__Curled up into a tiny ball on the ground, a fiery pain in my presumably-broken arm, I groaned. My face was numb and bloated, and there was a tiny pool of blood on the concrete. The world swam in front of me, and I had a thumping, dizzying headache. I wanted to scream, but I didn't have the energy.

"You're such a weak, defenseless girl," he crooned, giving me a kick in the side that forced me to roll onto my back, breathing heavily. "A stupid girl. You know how stupid you are, right? You can't do anything. You're useless, talentless. No one is actually your friend. You're alone. Where are those little boys of yours? Your shitty dad? No one. No one is there for you. Everyone hates you. Everything that happened is your fault. Your hurt so many people. EVERYONE FUCKING HATES YOU."

"S-stop...stop it," I mumbled with as much intensity as I could muster, my trembling arm reaching out to the side, feeling a glass shard of a beer bottle. "S-shut up. You...don't know anything about me."

Closing my fingers around the shard and feeling the jabbing pain in my palm, I slowly raised my arm while he was distracted, laughing in cold amusement. With a jagged movement that shot a flash of pain up and down my arm, I shoved the piece into his leg, drawing blood. Please, God, please.

He cried out in pain, flicking his leg out at me, "You bitch! Bitch!"

Inhaling sharply, I yelled as loudly as I could, fully aware of the burning feeling in my throat.

Flopping onto the ground, I closed my eyes. The sharp knife was immediately raised to my throat.

"What's going on here?" a gruff, deep voice called out, several yards away. "Who the hell are you?"

"Damn it," Matthew swore, scowling. He scrambled to his feet, running to the patch of thick forest, leaving me bleeding onto the floor. "I'll get you one day!"

"Help," I murmured groggily, my eyes fluttering closed. "Just...help."

I felt a couple of strong arms wrap around my body, lifting me up into the air. I was acutely aware of several low, concerned mutters before I passed out, his words echoing throughout my chaotic mind.

I'm done. I'm done.

Everything is my fault. My fault.


	14. Chapter 14- Going to be Okay

A/N:

Okie dokie! After much debate, I decided to put this in a third person perspective in favor of Kyoya's point of view, because frankly, I don't understand men. XD

Anyways, I'd really like to thank the awesome peeps who have supported this story all the way through. You're my motivation to continue to writing, and I can say with pride that this is the farthest I've ever gone in finishing a story. Thanks to you all for your support! It truly means a lot to me when you say that you enjoy this story.

And, so…without further ado, the second-to-last chapter of Color My World!

XXX

Kyoya woke up to a loud, bouncy Japanese love song, a clue that Tamaki had decided to give him a call on the early Saturday morning. Sitting up groggily and stretching his arms, he felt like throwing the phone against the wall just to shut it up. Saturday mornings were the only times where he actually was allowed to sleep in, and he honestly didn't want his extra two hours of rest to be interrupted by Tamaki, of all people. Finally resigning to the persistent rings of his cell phone, he picked it up off of his dresser, flicking it open and pressing the green phone icon. "Tamaki? What do you want? It's early, Saturday, and-"

"Mommy!" Tamaki's frantic voice rang through the receiver, and Kyoya was forced to hold it away from his ear as to not go prematurely deaf. "This is serious! Something happened to Ayame-chan!"

"Ayame?" he inquired sleepily, burying himself back under his comfortable covers.

"From what Haruhi told me, she was attacked by this strange man last night when she was alone. Some guy found her there, and as soon as he arrived, the attacker ran into the woods near the playground. She's in the hospital now."

His heart quickened when he heard the single word "attack", and he flung the covers off of his body, slipping his feet into his fluffy slippers. "I'm heading over there right away. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Hanging up on his friend, Kyoya sighed, only one thing on his mind.

Ayame.

XXX

He entered the hospital room quietly, the soft lights pouring in through the dusty window in the corner oddly calming. A tall nurse with dark brown hair frowned, jotting something down on her clipboard.

"So, how is she?" he asked in a low voice, sitting gingerly on a hard-backed chair that was close to the hospital bed.

Ayame's face was puffy, and bandages were wrapped neatly around her forehead. Her right elbow was in a cast, and her shoulder was in an awkward angle. Her eyes were closed, but her eyelashes fluttered every now and then, a look of discomfort on her face.

The nurse gave him a patronizing look, before responding in a clipped voice, "I wish I didn't have to say this, but...not very good. Broken arm, dislocated shoulder, plenty of bruises, and we still haven't tested for internal damage."

Two police officers walked briskly into the hospital room, nodding to the woman. "We've finished the investigation of the victim's house."

"And?" Kyoya inquired impatiently, drawing the two men's attention before the nurse could respond.

"And who would you be?" the taller of the men asked gruffly, a frown behind his bushy mustache. "Her boyfriend?"

He smiled calmly, ignoring his mixed emotions at the thought. "No, just a friend of hers from Ouran Academy. My name is Kyoya Otori, the third son of the head of the Otori Corporation, Yoshio Otori. I believe I'm not mistaken when I say that this is one of our many hospital locations all over Japan."

Spotting the dubious look on the officer's face, he sighed resignedly, flipping out his student identification from a designer jean pocket.

The man nodded hastily, flustered. "Um, yes, of course, Otori-kun! I'm Officer Fukunaga and my partner is Officer Suzuki."

"So...what _were_the results of the investigation?" Kyoya asked delicately, lips upturning in a rather forced smirk. "Forgive me for not catching them earlier.

"Several other officers are searching the area where the offender vanished last night right now. Although the girl's father was uncooperative, we managed to be able to search her room," Suzuki-san answered uncertainly, grimacing slightly.

"And?" the boy egged on with a hint of impatience.

"In the drawers, we found a collection of old notes addressed to Nakamura-san with pretty much the same messages." Fukunaga-san took several fuzzy pictures out of his bag, handing them to Kyoya.

Accepting them with a frown upon his face, he flipped through the images: pieces of pink, crinkled papers with the messages along the lines of "I'm always watching you". All in the same spidery, thin handwriting."We also discovered a box. There were images of a blonde girl with green eyes, and several other items. Most importantly, the photo album said that a little boy's name was Matthew Wilson."

"And you two believe that this is our culprit?" Kyoya tapped his chin with a finger, taking a colored picture of a blonde woman with emerald green eyes and a little boy that was the exact image of her.

"The witness said that the man had shaggy blonde hair and green eyes. This boy in the photo album entirely fits the description." Fukunaga-san nodded, placing the photographs back into his pocket. "We've researched the records of Marianna Rosalie Clambert, the woman who also appeared in the album. She was reported missing from California about two decades ago, along with her five year-old son, who's our suspect. The case wasn't investigated with much depth and they were reported as deceased. The relation between these two and Nakamura-san isn't known-"

"She has their eyes," the teenager said abruptly. "Ayame's related to them. Maybe even directly."

"Physical appearances aren't enough evidence," Suzuki-san argued.

"Right now, it doesn't matter what relations Ayame has to these two. You can leave that to the detectives. Just get to investigating and targeting him," he snapped, waving his hand in the air. "It wouldn't be good if this was discovered by the media. Thank you for the information."

The officers hastily left the room, and Kyoya sighed, standing up to get a better look at Ayame's condition, hesitating before brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "How long do you think she'll be unconscious?"

"However long she needs. No doubt that she's been injured very severely," the nurse spoke quietly, before glancing at the boy and noticing his uncertain expression, "but we'll take very good care of her, I assure you."

"That I have no doubts about. I hope you don't mind if I come here every day to check on her progress."

"No problem, Otori-san."

"Much appreciated."

The Host Club, minus Kyoya, who insisted that he had "business" to take care of, gathered in their sacred meeting room: Music Room #3.

XXX

"So how's Ayame-senpai?" Haruhi asked, running her fingers through her chocolate-brown hair, before adding sheepishly, "I haven't visited her yet."

"So Aya-chan is still unconscious?" Honey-senpai's lip quivered, and he fought tears as he cuddled his adorable stuffed bunny. Mori gave him a comforting pat on his fluffy head as a form of silent consolation.

"Unfortunately, yes. From what Mommy told me, the doctors say that they might be calling it a coma now," The leader of the club began pacing feverishly on the pink-tiled floors, obviously agitated "and that they have no clue when she'll wake up. The doctors have also been talking to a couple of psychologists. It's very possible that she may have been...been...EMOTIONALLY DAMAGED!"

Tamaki lost all of his composure at that moment, bawling and slumping against the wall, face pressed into his palms.

"So Aya-chan's not coming back for a long time?"

"Yeah."

There was only awkward silence.

"Kyoya-senpai visits her a lot, doesn't he?" Haruhi observed quietly, tapping a finger against her chin. "I know he pretends not to care about her, but...he really does."

"It's as if he's in a coma, too..." Hikaru nodded in agreement.

"None of us ever saw this coming..."

"You know, my lovely friends," Tamaki sighed, leaning his chin against his palm dejectedly. "Kyoya-kun has always been fond of Ayame-chan. I could see it from the very beginning, yes, even if he does all he can to hide the fact. Maybe that's the reason I wanted her to join the club in the first place. And now, look where it's got us all...Kyoya's hurt the most."

The "king" paused dramatically, before wheeling out yet another one of his planning blackboards, clearing his throat, "Which is why...IT'S OUR CLUB'S MISSION TO GET AYAME-CHAN OUT OF THAT COMA AND BACK TO OURAN ACADEMY WHERE SHE BELONGS! AS HER FRIENDS, IT'S OUR OBLIGATION TO DO SO! WHO'S WITH ME?"

The twins gazed at Tamaki in awe, before applauding enthusiastically.

Haruhi sighed, watching the scene of chaos unfold before her. In times of trial, some things just never seemed to change.

But sometimes, that could be a comforting fact.

XXX

Hikaru and Kaoru stormed into the hospital, armed with a vast supply of feathers, stuffed animals, loud instruments, and squeaky toys, all that were supposed to help Ayame wake up using the most direct approach.

"Ayame-senpai!" the two chorused, waltzing to her bedside, Hikaru giving his trumpet a pathetic toot. He had quit playing the stupid instrument in middle school, but this was a perfect opportunity to brush up on his rather rusty skills. Kaoru gave a silver triangle a ding, before hooting enthusiastically.

"What in the world are you two doing?" Kyoya raised a suspicious eyebrow at the two, placing a fresh vase of flowers at her bedside.

"What do you t_hink_ we're doing?" Hikaru rolled his golden-green eyes, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Just like everyone else, we're putting in our best efforts to get Ayame-senpai to wake up."

"Kiss today good-bye, and point me toward tomorrow!" Kaoru warbled, leaning scarily close to Ayame.

"Isn't that from _Chorus Line_?"

"So?"

"How do you even know that she likes American musicals?"

"She's a singer, isn't she? What singer doesn't like musicals?"

"Hm...the ones who sing trashy pop?"

"Yeah, you could be right."

Ayame remained in her deep, fitful sleep, buried under the slightly smelly hospital sheets, despite the hell of a racket the twins were making in their effort to follow Tamaki-senpai's instructions.

"By the way, senpai...shouldn't you be studying?" Hikaru frowned, using the same tone as a stern professor. "If I'm not mistaken-"

"Of course you're not, dear brother-

"Why thank you, Kaoru. Anyways, they're in a couple of weeks, aren't they?"

"I'm studying right here," Kyoya held up his French and Chemistry textbooks, lips curling into a smirk. "I'm very well-prepared, thank you very much, Hikaru. There's no need to worry about me. Or Ayame, for that matter. She'll wake up when she thinks it's the right time. No need to rush her."

He gave the two a weak smile, onyx eyes glancing briefly at his unconscious friend for a moment before flipping to another page in his textbook, determinedly focusing on the tiny black print. "You two should study, too. Thank you for reminding me, though."

The brothers exchanged a "what's-going-on" look, before Kaoru said softly, "What are you thinking about now, senpai?"

"Exactly what it looks like," Kyoya fought to keep a straight face, hurriedly adjusting his spectacles. "I'm studying irregular verbs. It's actually quite the endeavor."

Hikaru gave his twin a tap on the shoulder, muttering, "Come on, Kaoru. Let's just go. Leave Kyoya-senpai alone."

Kaoru looked like he was about to argue before he shut his mouth, allowing his brother to guide him out of the hospital room, mission to force Ayame-chan to wake up forgotten. The look in Kyoya's eyes...it was so different to the look the two were used to. It was so...faded. But the twins knew that it wasn't for nothing.

He was waiting for her to wake up. Maybe he was hoping that it would happen more than themselves, or Honey-senpai, or even Tamaki.

Kyoya sighed once the two of them had exited the room, pressing his face into his palms. _Why?_

"Ayame," he spoke hesitantly, because he was fully aware that he might as well have been conversing with a doorknob. "I knew that you were something special the day that you walked into the classroom. You're so...unique. Eccentric, but in that extraordinary sort of way."

She remained asleep, eyelashes fluttering, but he continued, unable to stop himself.

"Your voice...it's one of the most beautiful things in the world. You fit in so well with the club that it's almost overwhelming. And I did think that it was funny when you got into that pastry fight."

"When your dad hit me that day...I realized how strong you were. You're so brave, to deal with that for your entire life. Our lives are so much easier than yours...and I think I've learned to appreciate what I have because of what you showed me. And I have the courage to pursue my dreams. I'm so sorry for all of the things I said to you. But I've cherished the times when I actually told you what was on my mind. I didn't want you to leave Ouran Academy for that arts school. Everything just wouldn't be the same without you."

Kyoya fought back tears, the memories of the past year she and the rest of the club had spent together flashing in his mind. "And I wish that you would have just told us about the stalker. What he was doing to you. We would have put a stop to it right away, because that's what friends are for. You taught me that, Ayame. So please...please wake up. The Host Club needs you. I need you. Please...I love you."

The last words were easy to say. But why?

Because it was the honest-to-goodness truth. He was in love with her. He was in love with the girl that he had believed was the most infuriating thing that had appeared in his life. The way that she always had to have things go her way, the way that she had always playfully called him a "bastard", what a stubborn idiot she sometimes was…

Why couldn't he have realized it earlier? Why did things have to be this way? Why?

A tear dropped from his onyx eyes and landed on her face, dripping down her pale cheek.

"Ayame...I'm so sorry. For everything. I'm so sorry...Please...just wake up. Please. For me."

Suddenly, by some amazing miracle, a trembling finger slowly touched the tear that landed on her cheek, and he eyes peeled open, hazily peering at her blurry surroundings. Her gaze landed on the boy at her bedside, and she gave him a weak smile, "K-Kyoya? I-is it really you?"

Kyoya's eyes widened, before he nodded quickly. "It's me. Are you alright?"

"I don't...I don't...everything's my fault," Ayame rasped, before erupting into sobs, burying her face into her hands.

"Nothing's your fault," he said soothingly, standing up and helping her into a sitting position. Tentatively wrapping his arms around her, he allowed her to cry into his shoulder, gently stroking her hair.

"Everything's alright...you're going to be okay. You're going to be okay. Everything's going to be okay."


	15. Chapter 15- The Fibonacci Sequence

Author's Note:

I apologize for lying to you all! I said that this would be the last chapter, but I've decided to split it up into two because I didn't realize that the first half would be so long, and I really don't like being jumpy.

So...this is the second-to-last chapter of CMW! Thanks for all of your support!

XXX

Ayame's POV

Sitting up on my hospital bed, I stared blankly at the bright sunshine pouring in from the window. It was a beautiful day, the best morning I've seen in a while. I tentatively touched my cheek, sending a stinging pain through my face. Wincing, I took a sip of water from the glass sitting on the table next to my bed.

Yesterday afternoon I had, yet again, been forced to attend another one of those goddamn therapy sessions. I repeatedly answered their bland questions about my coma, the attack, and my assaulter. Yes, he was related to me. He was my half-brother. My mother died when I was five years old. The attack was painful. No, he did not touch me in a sexual way. He wanted to hurt me because he was mentally unstable, and stalked me for months.

The fateful night replayed over and over in my head in the form of nightmares while I was still in the coma, each "everything is your fault" more painful than the last.

But Kyoya had told me that it wasn't my fault…but I honestly didn't want to think about Kyoya right now. There were just too many things to process right now, and I hadn't actually seen him since I had woken up. Actually, that was a bit hazy too. But Kyoya was the last thing I wanted on my mind.

I sighed, still drowsy, when the door slowly creaked open, drawing my attention.

"Ayame?" A man wearing a t-shirt, black sweater, and jeans asked in a hoarse voice, running his fingers through his neatly-brushed hair.

I couldn't believe my eyes. "Dad?"

My father nodded hurriedly, looking nervous and hesitant. He shook his head, running forward before wrapping his arms tightly around me.

"Dad," I murmured, still in disbelief. This was my father? The drunk loser? What was he even doing here?

"I'm so sorry...can you ever forgive me?" he breathed, restraining sobs.

Anger flared up in my chest. Did he think that after all these years, he could just say 'sorry' and it would be okay? After he practically abandoned me to wallow in a figurative hole of misery just because mom was gone? Who did he think he was? Just coming back after all that I've been through alone?

He let go of me, brown eyes glistening with tears. "Your friend visited me. He told me that I had a beautiful, talented, amazing daughter...and that I had to get my act together for her if I really loved her. He told me that I was an inconsiderate, pathetic, disgusting bastard. And I realized...he was absolutely right. I was so awful to you. I've been trying so hard, Ayame. It's hard for me to leave drinking everything else behind, but...I really want to pick my life up again. The boy...what was his name? Kyo-?"

"Kyoya?" My ears perked up. Kyoya...he just wouldn't let these things go.

"That was his name," my dad nodded quickly, before continuing. "He agreed to pay for rehab and therapy sessions."

"Kyoya...did that for you?" I widened my eyes, shocked. "Kyoya?"

"He told me that he wanted the best for you. He couldn't stand to see you and I suffer anymore. You've really picked yourself a nice boy, Ayame."

"Um, Dad...it's not like that," I corrected nervously. "It's nothing like that. Kyoya and I are just...friends."

"I was just messing with you," he laughed heartily, giving me a clap on my good shoulder.

"Yeah...sure."

"So when do you get to come home? It's been lonely without you there."

"A couple more days in this hellhole. And I seriously doubt that."

"Just give your old dad a chance, okay?"

"We'll have to see about that."

Haruhi's POV

"It's obvious that he's in love with her!" Hikaru almost shouted at Tamaki, who was sitting in this throne, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

"Kyo-chan and Aya-chan? That's so cute!" Honey-chan called out adorably, giggling happily. "So she's okay now?"

"From what I've gathered, she woke up a week ago," the king stated matter-of-factly. "And she's going through a rehab process and sessions with professional psychologists. She's back home now and will start coming back to Ouran in about a week!"

"Do you think that she'll have to repeat the year?" Kaoru asked worriedly. "I mean, she's missing finals and all-"

"No worries, she can just take summer school!" Tamaki trilled enthusiastically. "She's only missed three weeks or so, so she can definitely make it up with little effort!"

"So what are we going to do about the two of them? There's _something _going on!" Hikaru protested impatiently, filling the room with hushed whispers.

"Yeah." Mori-senpai agreed, placing an energetic Honey-senpai onto his shoulders.

"My faithful subjects," Tamaki said dramatically, posing theatrically and gesturing for no apparent reason at the open window. "It's time to take the direct approach!"

"Oh, hell, not again," I mumbled under my breath.

He, for the second time that month, wheeled out his trusty blackboard with the words: "Operation Ayame-chan and Mommy's first date!"

"Are we still going to call him 'Mommy' when he's dating Ayame-chan?" Kaoru asked unhelpfully, and I glared at him.

"We don't know for a fact that they're going to end up dating," I snapped at him, crossing my arms. "After all, how are we going to get those two on a date anyways? You know how Ayame and Kyoya-senpai are-"

I stopped abruptly at the maniac look on Tamaki-senpai and the twins' faces, gulping. I was definitely going to get involved in some insane, unpredictable way.

What was this, the third time?

Ayame's POV

Slightly woozy and groggy, I reached for my loudly-blaring telephone, checking the caller identification. As to be expected, it was Haruhi.

It was...strange to be in my apartment again, and it would definitely take time to adjust to the sudden prescence of my father in my daily life. Not to mention his "experimental" cooking.

"Hey, Haruhi. What's up?"

"Oh, I just wanted to tell you that Tamaki-senpai made a reservation for a nice sushi restaurant next Friday night at seven. You're free, on that day, right? And you come back to school on Monday, so no health concerns?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine."

That wasn't exactly true. My arm was still in a cast, body was still decorated with fading bruises, and I was about as sore as hell.

"So…Kyoya's going to pick you up at six-thirty sharp, and Tamaki's going to send you a nice outfit and the address to the place. Everything's planned." Haruhi said cheerfully, and I could hear loud shouts in the background.

I thought for a minute about declining, but I really didn't want to pass up a chance to get some nice sushi with my rich friends, even if my doctor told me to go easy on my stomach, "Awesome, that sounds great. Tell them thanks for inviting me. Thank you for giving me a call, Haruhi! See you at school!"

"Can't wait, senpai. Bye."

Upon entering my second-year class in Ouran for the first time in a month, a loud cheer greeted my arrival, nearly sending me toppling out of the door.

"WELCOME BACK, NAKAMURA!"

The class cheered, applauding enthusiastically. Balloons and banners decorated the room, and my lab partner Seiji sent a wave of confetti blasting into the air.

"Um...wow," I said, slightly dazed and shocked.

Tamaki rammed into me, restraining tears as he wrapped his arms tightly around me. I smiled, giving him a light kiss on the cheek, "Come on, Tamaki...go easy on the girl with the broken arm. I don't think you want to suffocate me."

He sniffled, loosening his grip, "I'm so glad you're back, Ayame-chan."

I rocked him soothingly back and forth, giving him a pat on the back. Behind him, Kyoya leaned nonchalantly against his deck, flipping through a tiny notebook. For a moment, though, I locked eyes with him.

I couldn't find the words to thank him for helping my father and for...well, everything else. I just couldn't stop flashing back to the moment where he had hugged me. Told me that everything was going to be okay.

But I think he got the message that I was grateful.

Pulling on the sleeveless yellow dress and grinning nervously at my reflection, I pinned back my bangs with a couple of plastic barrettes.

Smoothing over the fabric of the dress one more time for reassurance, I grabbed my cheap purse and called out to my dad that I was leaving for the dinner, the restaurant being only a couple of blocks away from my apartment.

I stepped out into the mildly warm air, watching as a pink flower petal drifted serenely past me in the spring wind. The sky was twinkling with glimmering stars, I could hear the cicadas chirping from the green foliage, and the night was absolutely gorgeous. Nothing could have been better.

The traffic was busy when I entered the nicer part of town, the area closer to Ouran Academy and Kyoya's mansion. The restaurant seemed like a popular place, families and couples dressed in nice clothing and carrying designer bags talking idly as they waited in the sitting room that was decorated with traditional Japanese art and fat couches.

I put a smile on my face, pushing open the door and allowing the aroma of steamed fish to hit me straight in the face. Breathing in deeply, I walked briskly towards the waiting area, eyes searching around the crowded room until they landed on a bored Kyoya. He was slumped on the couch, gazing blankly at the screen of his cellphone.

"Um...hi, Kyoya," I said nervously, giving him a cheerful wave. "Are you really the only one here? We're not early, right?"

"Seven on the dot," he replied, glancing briefly at the silver watch on his wrist. "It's quite unlike Tamaki to my late. He might be an idiot, but he certainly doesn't have such bad manners."

"I'm sure it's just bad traffic," I responded quickly, my heart doing an involuntary tap dance at the sight of his nice outfit. A suit, and a lavender silk tie, his hair neatly-combed. "Yeah...it's crazy tonight."

I shook my head, silently reprimanding myself. _You can't think of him that way._

"Well, I hope you're right." Kyoya raised an eyebrow, obviously bored and impatient.

I sat gingerly down besides him, jiggling my foot in time to the soft classical music that was playing in the background, nervously fidgeting every so often.

"A reservation for two! Nakamura and Otori-san?"

I looked up immediately, exchanging a glance with Kyoya, before raising my hand, "Um...miss? I think that you've made a mistake. My other six other friends made a reservation with us for eight, but they're running late, so-"

"I only have two names marked down." The woman who was in charge of seating frowned, glancing at her clipboard one more time. "Maybe your friends made a mistake?"

Suddenly, it dawned on me. This was a set-up. To get Kyoya and me alone. In a nice sushi restaurant.

A date?!

I gulped, mumbling under my breath, "I swear, I'm going to kill those bastards!"

"It's just a dinner, I suppose," he remarked silkily, standing up and holding his hand out to me. "They couldn't have meant anything by it. Besides, are you going to pass up the chance to have a nice dinner?"

I sighed, and, having no other option, took his hand to pull myself up. I let go immediately, though.

The woman gave me a minty smile, beckoning me forward, "Shall I show you to your seats?"

She walked daintily in her shockingly-high heels to a remote, isolated room in the very far corner of the restaurant. As I entered the room, the darkness of the room was apparent. A tiny table sat in the center of the room, and there was a white lily in a blue porcelain vase in the middle of it, the entire room illuminated by wax candles.

"Wow, this sure is a nice room," I laughed nervously, trying to break up the tension.

"Have a good time you two." The woman nodded to us, bowing formally before laving.

I took a deep breath, pulling out the chair to sit down, "Well, this is really formal. I wonder what they're planning to do...this has to be some elaborate prank."

"Or it could be a random act of kindness," Kyoya raised an eyebrow at me. "It's your first week back and they just wanted to treat you to a nice dinner. Is it really that difficult to accept?"

Slightly hurt by his harsh tone and wondering why he seemed so upset, I replied, "Well, we all could have gone to a nice restaurant f they wanted to treat me to a nice dinner, don't you think?"

"Are you saying that you have a problem going with me?"

"I never said that!" I protested helplessly, avoiding eye contact. "It's just that, I don't know...this is just so unexpected. Besides, shouldn't we decided what we want to order? I'm sure everything here is absolutely delicious-"

"Can't you just tell me what's on your mind right now? You know that I haven't forgotten," he interrupted, sounding slightly aggravated.

I tried not to flush a bright tomato red, feigning confusion, "Forgotten what? And there's nothing unusual going on in my mind. What's up with you? You're just so antsy."

"What's up with you? You just left the hospital and I'm trying to make you feel better. Can't you trust me?" Kyoya challenged angrily.

I snapped, scowling at him and feeling slightly aggravated. Then again, this wasn't new, especially since I was alone with_ him_. "This isn't a question of trust! Can't you just give me a break for once? I just don't want to tell you, okay? I've gone through a lot, and-"

"You think that I don't know that? I stayed by your bedside the entire time, in case you were too dense to realize! I'm trying to help you, okay? Don't you understand why your father is acting all nice?"

"What, do you want a thank you or something? I'm very grateful, Kyoya. I never said I wasn't. I don't understand how this is relevant-"

"Okay, fine. It isn't. I'm just being a concerned friend." He gave me a clearly-forced smile, clearing his throat and picking up his menu. "How about we order? I've heard that the calamari tempura in this restaurant is simply divine-"

I shook my head, quietly replying, "Excuse me. I just have to go to the bathroom. I'll be back in a sec."

Pushing myself out of my seat, suddenly nauseous and suffocated in the dark, empty room, I wobbled awkwardly to the doorway, as fast as I could. Before I could make it through the door frame, however, an unseen force rammed into me, sending me sprawling to the ground.

Cold water covered my dress, leaking from a glass pitcher that was currently shattered into pieces on the floor. Lifting my fingers to my face, I could see that a shard of glass had scraped my finger, blood dripping slowly down to splatter on the floor.

"Miss? Are you alright? I'm so sorry!" the waitress exclaimed frantically, crouching down beside me.

My mind flashed immediately back to that night. The kicks to my stomach. Blood running down my temple. The burning pain in my shoulder. Everything.

How everything was my fault.

It still was.

Everything was my fault.

I tuned out to everything that was happening around me, a living nightmare replaying over and over in my mind. It was happening again. Everything was happening again.

"Ayame! Ayame!" I could vaguely register a voice calling out. A voice that was so painfully familiar.

"Ayame...listen to me. You're alright. You're fine. Everything's okay. Breathe, just breathe. You're fine. You're safe. You don't have to worry about anything anymore. Just breathe. He's not here to hurt you anymore. You're with me. I promise I won't let you get hurt that way again. Please. Just listen to me."

Tears streamed down my face, and I could still hear his cold laugh, his words, could vividly remember that night, detail for detail. Nothing could make me forget that.

A couple of strong arms wrapped around my shoulders, a hand tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "You can trust me, Ayame. You're safe here. He's gone. There's no reason to be scared anymore."

I had sworn Kyoya to secrecy about the incident at the restaurant. He dropped me off at home after that little episode without a word about it, and we promised each other just to tell the club that the dinner went okay. And to give them hell the next time we saw them for arranging a private dinner for the two us. Still, it was hugely embarrassing. Our argument, too. Things were just getting worse.

"So, how did the dinner go?" Haruhi asked me nonchalantly on the phone, although there was a slight hint of nervousness in her voice.

I faked a deep, ominous voice, "Kyoya and I have agreed to personally find your school supplies and cover them with tar, chicken fat, and down feathers. Beware, Haruhi. I think we should stop trusting you guys. Maybe I should find a couple of normal friends-"

"Then life would be too boring. But seriously, senpai. How did it go?"

"What more do you want to know?" I turned over to lie on my stomach, twirling a strand of hair in my fingers. "It was fine. The sushi there was fabulous. Kyoya and I had a pleasant conversation on the Fibonacci sequence. All was sound that night. There were no expensive things broken. No need to worry."

"The Fibonacci sequence?"

"Yes, Haruhi, the Fibonacci sequence. It's a fascinating topic. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Um...whatever you say, senpai."


	16. Chapter 16- Confessions (FINAL CHAPTER)

Author's Note:

Last chapter of CMW, guys! WOOT! WOOT!

Anyways, I'll definitely be posting a couple of epilogues to follow-up the story! Thank you all for being such wonderful readers, and have a lovely, double rainbow-y day! :D

XXX

Sitting at home on a dreary evening when the world just couldn't sit still, I sighed, leaning back onto my couch and taking a sip of hot tea. Frankly, I was exhausted..

My cast had been removed from my arm yesterday, which was a relief. I was nearly going insane from my inability to draw and play the violin for the past month or so.

The police informed me via phone call that my brother had been found dead in the forest. According to the officers, he had drowned in a shallow stream due to intoxication, and a scrape had been found on his leg, exactly where I had stabbed him with the glass shard.

But no one had to know that.

He was dead, and I had no clue how I felt about it.

Closing my eyes and exhaling deeply, I was about to reluctantly continue studying when there was a loud, disruptive knock on the door. Puffing my cheeks out, I slowly stood up and shuffled to the door, irritated.

I opened the door, and leaned against the frame, scowling once who I saw who it was. "What the hell do you want now? A debt? A favor? Or do you just want to bother me?"

Kyoya looked taken aback my snappy response, but he merely spoke in a soft voice, "I have to tell you something."

"And what would that be?" I raised an eyebrow, frustrated and tired with all of his games.

He seemed hesitant for a moment, leaving an awkward silence in the air before blurting out hurriedly, "I'm in love with you."

Wait, what? What did he just say? I heard the words "I", "love", and "you" in the same sentence. Not "I love to torture you". The five words that were just uttered from his mouth meant that he was attracted to me. I was definitely going insane.

I let out a sigh of disgust, faking a laugh, "Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, Kyoya, but April 1st was a really long time ago. You know...I bet the twins and Tamaki put you up to this. Great prank, though. You should know that you can't fool me-"

"I'm serious, Ayame. Do you really think that I would lie to you about this sort of thing?" Kyoya stared directly at me, onyx eyes blazing with a strange intensity.

"Ah, then I know what it is!" I denied loudly, laughing hysterically and slapping a hand on my knee. "I really must have some hearing problems! The psycho probably damaged my ears for life! There's no way that you could actually say that-"

"Ayame, just listen to me!" he interrupted me loudly, sounding desperate and frustrated. "'I'm. In. Love. With. You. And I meant it."

Exhaling deeply, forced to acknowledge that what he said was the truth, I shook my head, "But why? That's completely unreasonable. I'm...I don't know. I'm just me."

Did a part of me feel the same way about him?

"You're so unique. So special. Amazing. Talented. Beautiful. Funny. Smart. Adorable," he almost shouted, and it was hard to believe he was complimenting me. "What more do you want to hear?"

I was shocked speechless, my mind replaying those words. He thought that I was a beautiful? Smart? Adorable? Of all things? Me?

"You're more than just another girl," he continued, calming down. "You're Ayame. I trust you more than any girl I've ever met. And if you don't love me back...that's your decision. I just want to know now. Are you in love with me or not?"

I didn't know how to respond, only feeling my cheeks flush a bright crimson. A butterfly fluttered in my chest, sending a strange, unexpected warmth throughout my body.

Did I love him...?

Yes. Of course I did.

Because wouldn't that explain everything?

Catching me by surprise, he leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to mine, closing his eyes. I let out a squeak, shocked, before I relaxed, enjoying the warmth. The taste of mint on his lips. This was natural. This was perfectly fine.

This was the way it was supposed to be.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. He was the most infuriating bastard I've ever met. The most annoying thing I had ever encountered in my life, even. But I was in love with him. More than I cared to admit. Inside, he was kind, thoughtful, considerate and had done everything possible for me when I wasn't looking. I was such an idiot not to see that. How he had always been there for me, and how much I cared about him.

"Hey, lovebirds!"

A cold wet object exploded on our faces, taking us by surprise. I stepped back, drenched, turning angrily to the source of the weapon. My eyes narrowed at the sight of a pair of grinning copper-haired idiot, holding up two more multi-colored water balloons. The Host Club was clustered around Tamaki's sleek black limo, smirking evilly at the two of us.

Hikaru nearly keeled over from laughing hysterically. "What are you, thirteen? I've never seen a lamer kiss in my life. You two are such clueless idiots!"

"That's it, you two!" I spat back, angry and ready for a rematch. Turning to Kyoya with a sleazy grin on my face, I gestured into the house. "Say we get some weapons? I think it's time to teach these bastards a lesson!"

"Be my guest." He smiled at me, a real, goofy, gorgeous smile. A smile that made my heart melt.

Running back inside, I grabbed a couple of water guns that had been sitting abandoned and unused in my kitchen from the time when Tamaki had dragged me to the fall festival for my birthday. Filling it up with my secret ammo, I dashed back outside, slapping one of the plastic guns into a soaked Kyoya's palm, "Get 'em good, partner."

"So does this mean we're official?" Hee accepted the gun, sneaking a sideways glance at me.

"We'll have to see about that." I batted him on the arm playfully, teasing him. "It might depend on whether we end up victorious in this battle of dignity."

"In that case, we'll have to slaughter the idiots."

"That's my Kyoya. Commence operation! Fire!"

We pressed the triggers at the same time, sending jets of purple liquid soaring over the lawn in front of my apartment building, landing on the unfortunate faces of our friends.

"What's in here?" Kyoya frowned, leaning forward to sniff the gun.

"A very toxic, dangerous concoction also known as expired prune juice." I grinned ominously, pushing his face away from the deadly odor. Noticing the incredulous look on his face, I giggled, shrugging. "It was on sale."

Things in life don't always go your way. All that you can do is fight the obstacles in your way and push past the pain. When there isn't a path available, improvise. Make one of your own. It doesn't matter what others think.

The most important thing I've learned during my year in Ouran was that...plenty of things in life do go your way. Laughing, making new friends, having fun. You have to learn how to rely on others. It's impossible to live a life bitter and alone. The Host Club was a group of seven of the craziest, wackiest, most hilarious, kind, and awesome people I've ever met. They showed me happiness, kindness, and the day I stumbled upon them in Music Room #3 led me to the guy of my dreams.

In other words...they showed me a new way of living and forgiving, and I'm a different person because of that.

My world has been colored.

I am no longer alone.

XXX

Author's Note:

Apologies for the crappy kiss scene. Romance isn't exactly my forte.

Anyways, I finished this a lot sooner than I expected. I went on a writing craze. XD

Thanks for all of your support, guys!


	17. Epilogue- The Proposal

Tugging my magenta suitcase towards the check-in counter, watching couples embrace, hearing businessmen rush by, yammering German nonsense into their Blackberries, I held hands with Kyoya. The airport's floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a bright blue sky, and it was just a gorgeous day. I turned to my friends with tears in my eyes, almost speechless.

Tamaki rushed forward, and collided into me, sobbing, "Ayame-chan!"

I grinned, patting him on the shoulder and rocking him back and forth, "Aw, Tamaki…I'll miss you too. Take care of Haruhi for me, will you?"

"Of course! What kind of a husband do you think I am?"

He drew himself up, acting all noble while striking a heroic pose, proudly flashing his gold wedding band. Haruhi sighed, leaning forward to give him a light kiss on the cheek.

The couple had gotten married a month after Tamaki had finished his final exams and graduated from Ouran Academy, but we had always known that would happen someday. I just didn't think that they'd grow up so soon. It made me feel old just thinking about it. I smiled at Kyoya, who gave my hand a warm squeeze.

"Hey, you know I can do that myself, senpai!" Haruhi laughed, giving me a quick hug. "Good luck, okay? Kyoya-senpai, do your best! We're all rooting for you!"

Kyoya had gotten accepted into Harvard University, and we were all super proud of him, even though he, of course, definitely hadn't fallen short of our expectations. It was a hard decision for him, but he had eventually decided to move to Boston for the next four years in order to attend college, and I didn't really have any other choice but to go with him. A labor of love, as they say. But I was willing to do that for him. What kind of person had I turned into in the last two years? It was definitely from those hormonal crazies.

I picked up Honey-senpai, and twirled him around, before pulling him close to my chest, breathing in the scent of sugar and cinnamon, "I'll miss you, Honey-kun! Remember to keep in touch, okay?"

"I'll call you every day, Aya-chan!" the boy exclaimed happily, smiling brightly as I set him down and shook hands with a somber Mori. "You too, Kyo-chan!"

"Good luck with that kendo dojo, senpai!" I gave the tall man a teary grin, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

The twins were watching this with matching smirks, and I laughed as I gave them individual hugs/ "Oh, you little bastards! I'll definitely miss our snowball fights!"

"We can have a rematch once you come back, senpai," they chorused, handing me a bouquet of flowers. I almost bawled my eyes out on that one.

"Oh, I love you all!" I gushed, wiping my eyes on a tissue Kyoya handed me. "Thanks for everything you've done for me! I can't even-"

"Don't then," Tamaki laughed, violet eyes lively and cheerful as he gave me a little salute. "Thank _you,_ Ayame-chan. Now, go on. The plane isn't going to wait for you."

I sniffled, giving him a pat on the shoulder, before Kyoya shook hands with everyone and murmured something to each of them. I grasped his hand again and waved to the six most amazing people in the world, "Good-bye! Come to visit us sometime! I love you all!"

Kyoya and I walked across the smooth, tiled floor, and I smiled tearfully as I gazed back at my friends.

"You know, I'm not forcing you into all of this," Kyoya muttered in a low tone. "I know you don't want to go with me."

"God, Kyoya, can't you accept a favor? You've done everything possible for me, and I'm not allowed to do anything back? I'm going with you because I love you. There's no turning back now. We've made all the arrangements, haven't we? It's all figured out. You'll work your ass of in college, while I mess around working at a music store, or something like that! Everything's covered, and I'm willing to do it because you're amazing, and-"

"You'll do anything for me," he finished bitterly, looking at a neon McDonald's sign.

"Yes, that's exactly it," I fidgeted, gazing uncertainly at him. "Er…you believe me, right? I swear to God I'm telling the truth."

Kyoya shook his head, giving me a warm smile, "Of course, Ayame. I was just making sure. In that case-"

He whipped a velvet box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a diamond ring, and knelt down, "Ayame Nakamura…you're definitely the most amazing girl I've ever met, no doubts about that. May I have the honor of staying by your side for the rest of our lives?

"Oh…my…shit," I breathed, pinching my arm to make sure that it wasn't just a dream, that he actually asked me to marry him. FUCKING marry him. The son of one of the most influential CEOs in the nation. But that wasn't the most important thing. I suddenly nodded, squealing, "Yes. YES!"

I gave him a tackling hug, and he kissed me gently, laughing and tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, whispering, "I already talked it over with my father, in case you were worrying. I managed to persuade him in the end."

"I didn't expect anything less of you!"

I heard a series of repeated clicks, and a couple of copper heads peeked up from behind an artificial palm tree, "Ha, look who just got engaged. These are so going on Facebook."

I blushed a deep crimson. Goddammit, the only person more infuriating than those two was Kyoya himself. "Hikaru….Kaoru…I SWEAR TO GOD, I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU!"

XXX

Author's Note:

My upsetting attempt at fluff. Apologies for my appalling writing skills. If I come up with another idea for epilogue, I'll definitely be posting it soon!

Hugs and rainbow dinosaurs!


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